


Under the Snow

by goldxblooded



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, King Thor, Loki and Thor are not brothers, Loki is not Jotun, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Recovery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:46:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 89,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldxblooded/pseuds/goldxblooded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Thor saves a man who has only known the winter. It turns out, the most beautiful things lie under the snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Thorki fanfiction and also my first Thor fanfiction. I am not fluent in the canon storyline or its character's dialogues, so I will be writing from my experience with the first Thor movie. The minor characters, like Warriors Three, Frigga, and Lady Sif will probably be my own rendition of them. I hope you enjoy my characterization of these characters as you read.
> 
> This work will have mentions of sexual abuse. It will not be heavily detailed, but there will be some kind of descriptions of it. Please read at your own discretion as there may be vulgarity in the story.
> 
> *Edit: In this work, Loki will not be a Jotun or have magic. He is a regular Asgardian. This is an alternate universe fiction, Loki will have no knowledge of or relation to Thor.
> 
> A very special thanks to storyends for being my beta for this chapter!

Once every year, on the same day, there is a king who stands on the highest mountain of Asgard. There, as his feet are planted deeply in the coldest of snows, he mourns. Here, where the ice never melts under the weight of an eternal winter, is the grave of a fallen king.

Thor stands proud, his spine straight, bones steel like they are frozen, arms firmly by his side. He stands proud because his father would always tell him to stand tall, that a king never slouches. There is a pain nestled under his ribs, even in the coldest of winters, it demands to be felt. Even under the numbing skin, it demands to be felt.

He wears the armor of an Asgardian warrior, the armor his father bestowed to him; its black skin is dusted with falling snowflakes. His red cape flows loosely in the wind, it bends and shifts, and Thor wishes he could bend as well. However his muscles remain frozen.

' _Here Lies:_

_Allfather Odin Borson_

_Valiant King_

_Loving Father_

_Beloved Husband_ '

Thor can hear his Allfather's words rumble deep in his bones. He can feel the depth of his father's voice, almost like he had heard it yesterday. He can feel his father's fingers, how they would pet his head when he was younger. He can feel his father's warmth, and he fears one day he will forget it.

His epitaph reads: 'A king is no king if he does not tend to his people.'

The words feel familiar as he runs his eyes over them. His father would tell him this time and time again. That it is one of Thor's duties as King of Asgard, to appease to his people, wherever they may live. After Allfather Odin's death, Thor swore to be a king that always tended to his people. It was like a silent tribute to his father. Otherwise, Thor was sure that the man would've found a way to smite him even in the afterlife.

He smiles at the thought of it, feeling his face numb from the coldness.

"My king."

Thor looks over his shoulder to see Fandral kneeling on one knee. White snow litters his beautiful blonde hair.

"I have told you time and time again to call me Thor, Fandral." He says, just loud enough for the man to hear. He hates to grieve in front of one of his most trusted warriors, but Fandral has seen him at his lowest already.

"And time and time again I never listen." Fandral lifts his head and smiles, Thor feels a warmth inside of him.

"Rise."

The blonde does so, tucking his hands behind his back.

"How many times have you accompanied me to these mountains?" He turns back to the grave and stares at the stone. It is a type of rock that snow rolls off of, so it may never be covered.

"You ask as if you do not already know, my king."

Thor laughs at his best friend. Fandral always has known how to make Thor feel better, always knew how to make him laugh.

He did know exactly how many times he'd been up here, the long number of years since his father passed. Each time they came, the number would burn itself into his mind. It was difficult to forget.

He quiets down and traces the letters on the stone with his eyes. "I am sorry friend, for making you take this journey with me."

Although Thor could have flown here, but doing so felt wrong to him. He liked to prove to his father that although royalty, he was always capable of anything he set his mind too. He liked to prove to his father that he had grown to be a strong man. A man he hoped his father was proud of.

"Your apologies wound my heart, my king. I would walk this path with you everyday for the rest of my life if you wanted."

Thor lets a small smile slip off his lips.

"Your words warm my soul Fandral. Father would have been most proud of his trusted warrior." Fandral was a part of the Warriors Three, who always protected the king, but as Fandral always traveled with Thor to the mountains, the other two warriors must stay behind to keep the kingdom safe.

"He is proud of you, as well, my king."

"Stand beside me, dear friend."

The blonde warrior walks with proud steps, his feet autographing the snow. He stands next to Thor, thier arms barely touch, but Thor can feel the warmth radiating through his armor.

"Do you think he is? Proud of me?" All his life, all he ever wanted was for his father to be proud of him. He had been a foolish prince, hot headed and always looking for victory through violence and rash decisions. He did not get a chance to right his wrongs before his father passed. It is his biggest regret.

"I do. Do you know why he wanted to be buried here, my king?"

Thor glances at his friend, who is now staring deeply at the tombstone. "Why?"

"Allfather Odin wanted to be lain to rest on the highest mountain of Asgard, where the winter is eternal, because he wanted to overlook his kingdom, even in the afterlife. Even in death, he wanted to care for his people. When I look at you, my king, I see him. You always care for the people and put them above your own needs. That's what makes you a good king. I remember that one time we were leaving the mountains, it was a harsh winter. You found an orphan child outside in the cold. Without a doubt you took off your coat and cape, to place on an orphaned child. You shivered the whole ride home, even if you denied it. Lady Sif scolded me for a whole month because you got a cold."

Thor lets out a loud laugh. He remembers that time. After every journey to his father's grave, he passes by a collection of tiny villages that are beneath the mountains. They are one of the few that endure the endless winter. The Asgardians who live here are used to the weather, but one time Thor had found an orphan in the third village who was abandoned and wandered to the land. He was so happy he got that coat. That was so many years ago. He can barely remember it.

"I do not recall shivering, Fandral. Your old age must be affecting your memory." He smiles widely at the warrior, who grins back at him.

"My king, if I may say, your teeth were chattering so loudly I'm sure Midgardians could hear it!"

Thor reaches down to grab a handful of snow to throw at the blonde. Fandral does not react in time and his face is covered in white. Thor lets out a laugh so loud, there are tears on the corner of his eyes.

The blonde takes some snow at throws it back at Thor.

The ice feels freezing against his face.

His mouth widens. "Treason! You dare assault your king!?"

Fandral is then running for his life, as Thor takes Mjolnir and slams the snow.

And the two fall into a snowfight, just like when they were children.

* * *

It is too late to regret their decision, as both cringe on their way back to the castle. The snow had gotten under their armor and melted, soaking their clothes. The two, king and trusted warrior, were trembling and laughing and freezing.

The first village that is beneath the mountains looks the same as it does every year. Worn down, covered in snow. It is beautiful in its own way, in that it never changes, even under the weight of a heavy winter. Thor makes sure to disguise himself, as the villagers are unaware he is king, but they do know him, as he has passed through this village time and time again.

They call him Hilmir*, and they call Fandrall Seggr*, random names they'd come up with to hide their identity.

The people here are the warmest he has ever known, despite the cold weather they are caged in.

He and Fandral make their way to a tavern they always stop by. The tea there is warm enough to melt any ice, and Thor enjoys indulging there.

"Ah! Hilmir! Seggr!" Thor walks in to see a familiar face. Diana, an old woman who owns the tavern. Her smile can defrost any frozen heart. "It only has been a year, but I feel like it's been five! Come, come in, you two have lost weight! Let me make some food fer you two." She ushers them both in, and he can see Fandral flinch when she touches him. Thor gives the man a reassuring nod.

Fandral, as light hearted as he was, could turn into the deadliest of warriors when it came to Thor. And as kings were not allowed to be touched, it was instinct for the blonde to want and protect him.

Soon, they are seated with a table full of food and drinks. He knows the woman will not make him pay for it, but he always leaves enough money behind to buy her a whole new tavern. Diana donates the money to the villagers who needed it the most.

The king and warrior eat and small talk. They talk of the most random things, because he doesn't always get time like this to speak to his friend. It is the only time Fandral can speak without formalities. It is a time Fandral does not say 'my king' after every word. It is a time the warrior actually looks in Thor's ice blue eyes. It is a time Fandral is his childhood friend again.

After they have eaten, Fandral speaks of how he is afraid Volstagg has devoured half of the castle by now, and that they should hurry back. Thor reassures him that Hogun will have beaten him senseless if he even tried.

He missed his other two trusted warriors, and wished they were here. He could use Volstagg's good-hearted spirit and Hogun's silent reassurance. He trusts the two and Lady Sif to watch over his castle and his kingdom while he is absent.

The mountains are not far from the Asgardian castle. In fact, they are rather close; it is only the journey up the mountain that is long. Thor leaves money on the table, gives the old woman a hug, and leaves. Fandral walks behind him as they begin to leave the village.

Thor is ready to bid this frozen collection of villages goodbye, until another year. Each time they have to leave, he misses it, just like each time they come back, he loathes it. He can hear Fandral's boots padding into the snow. He can hear the orchestra of sounds of the villagers as they close shop. He can hear the wind in the distance, whispering across white land.

It is not until they reach the edge of the second village does Thor hear something else.

A scream.

A loud, pained scream.

It almost blends in with the wind, but not quite.

He immediately spins around to pinpoint the source. Fandral is quick to place his hands on his hidden saber inside his armor.

Through the constant snowfall and darkness of the night, Thor is disoriented. But he knows a scream of pain when he hears one.

It is silent, so painfully silent that he fears that he can hear the snow whisper on his armor.

Fandral opens his mouth to speak, but then the screeching scream rips across the night again.

Thor is off the soles of his feet in no time, dashing towards the source, his feet impaling the deep snow with vigorous steps. They sink deep with each step, just like his heart plunges deep into his stomach.

The screams continue, in random intervals, more pained with each one.

Darkness.

Scream.

Snow.

Scream.

Wind.

Finally, he reaches a dark alleyway, between two buildings on the corner of the village. The scream comes again, more desperate, and Thor can feel his skin crawl like it is being stabbed by a hot iron poker. He starts making his way into the darkness, readying himself for anything.

The yell comes again, and the pain feels so raw in the air, Thor can feel his breathing intensify, he is almost afraid to find what is so hurt.

He runs to the end of the alleyway to see two men.

One, who is on the floor, and the other who is standing. It is too dark to make out features of the one on the ground, but it is obvious he is writhing in pain as the other main continues to stomp on him, kick him, spit on him.

"You filthy slut!" The man who is standing punctuates each word with a kick. "My cock is the only thing you know!" The man raises his legs again but Thor is already knocking him into the ground with all the force inside of him.

Thor feels so much anger in his bones; it burns like eternal flames under his skin. The rage fuses with his blood and it floods his entire body with each pump of his heart.

He lands a hard punch on the man's face, so hard he feels his knuckles crack against the man's jaw. 

Immediately, he gets off the unconscious man and reaches for the victim. Thor brings the wounded man into his arms, cradling him against his chest. He cannot make out any features still, but the man is so light and fragile in his large arms. He can feel the blood on his skin, it leaks steadily onto Thor's armor.

Suddenly, he hears the rustle of limbs and turns to see the assailant ready to strike down on him with a wooden plank.

Before he can brace himself for the strike, Fandral is there in a heartbeat, his saber out and blocking the attack.

"Fandral." He whispers, knees cold from sinking into the snow. "Please, make haste."

The king lifts off of his knees, the wounded man tight in his arms, and dashes off. He can hear loud grunts and the sound of steel cutting flesh.

Thor stops running when he finally gets some light under the clouds. He lays the body on the floor, in a pool of moonlight and snow to examine the wounded man. A breath is caught in his throat, and he feels the winter air settle deep inside his bones.

The man has filthy dark raven hair that flows like individual rivers down his head. His skin was a pale white comparable to the snow, it is marred with blood and multiple bruises. He is wearing tattered clothes, ripped at the seams where forceful hands pulled it apart. Thor can smell seed on the boy, and feels bile rise up his throat.

His fingers sweep away a lock of hair from the smaller man's face. His lip is cut and bleeding, one eye is bruised. Thor can feel his fingers shake as they graze the smaller man's features softly. Thor takes off his coat and places it on the man.

A gentle hand on his shoulder causes him alarm.

Fandral stands over him, his saber once again hidden. He kneels before Thor, because when a king kneels, so must his warrior. "My king, we must go."

Thor stands, the man still in his arms.

"My king?"

"I desire to bring him to the castle."

Fandral gives him a pointed look, but knows much better than to argue with him.

"Yes, my king. Please let me carry him." Thor shakes his head.

"No, it is alright, I shall carry him. We must hurry, he is wounded badly. I fear for his life."

His warrior nods, and they run.

Thor can still feel his fingers shake as he holds the man. He can feel the life slowly leak off his hands. He can feel the man dying in his arms. He feels fear colder than the snow seep into his chest.

_Please don't die._

_Please don't die._

Fandral notices his king shivering, but he says nothing this time around. He only places his coat on the king.

Thor runs the fastest he has ever run, fear never ceasing to exit his body. The terror is so familiar, it tears him open. It's so familiar, Thor feels like screaming until his lungs burst.

_Please don't die._

_Please don't die._

He can only get the feeling that the dying man in his arms is so familiar.


	2. Plates

“The fault does not fall upon you, my son.”

Thor looks up at his mother, unable to decipher the storm of emotions that rage inside him. 

“How can it not be? I am son of Allfather Odin, king of Asgard!” He says loudly. His voice softens to a mutter. “Yet I cannot protect my own people?” He feels venom in his throat, the rage burns beneath his skin like fire. He wants to vomit up the past few hours of his life.

Visiting his father's grave had reminded him of the expectations for a king, not only from his father, but also from himself. He said he would keep an open eye and provide care for the people of Asgard. Seeing the raven haired man beaten and bruised in an alley, it spoke volumes to him. There was an incessant voice inside of him that kept telling him he could've done something to prevent it. 

He looks down at his feet, they rest against the throne of Asgard. His father sat here once before. What would he have done?

Frigga walks up the golden steps that lead to his throne. She stands before him with the grace of a thousand springs. Her age is only subtle on her golden skin, her smile is warm, like a piece of midgardian sun. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at her, feeling lost against her touch. His mother was a compass in his heart, always providing wisdom when he was lost at sea.

“You are quick to blame yourself, my son. But did you think, that had you not passed through that village, what would be of the boy now?”

Thor looks down and thinks. He remembers how harshly the man was being beaten, how even after losing consciousness, his body was still being destroyed. He would not have been able to take much more of the assault, and it was sheer luck that Thor had found him at that moment.

Frigga places a hand under his chin and raises it. “He would be gone, Thor. You saved him.” Her words sounds reassuring, but they merely ghost across his conflicted thoughts.

He grits his teeth. “I may be too late. He has already been damaged and hurt.”

She lets out a soft sigh. “It is true that you can not change the past. You can not change the scars that surface on his skin, but you can heal the wounds that are in his heart. He has been hurt in the past, yes, but that does not mean you can’t heal him in the future.” These words, however, do speak to him clearly. The man may be broken, but that did not mean Thor couldn't help him heal.

But did he have the capabilities?

“And what if I can’t? I have never done things like this before.”

“You will find a way.”

He furrows his eyebrows, wanting to just embrace his mother. Her words bounce off the walls of his mind. “What do you mean?”

“If I gave you all the answers, then it would be too easy.” She smiles and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead. “I know you will do what is right.”

Thor stands and embraces his mother in thanks, and then leaves the throne room, heading to his own chambers.

He hopes that she is right. 

* * *

The door to his room is shut, he can hear muffled voices behind the door; they imitate the muffled anger that is behind his skin.

He decides not to enter, giving the healers room to work. Instead, he stands aside and waits.

Hours pass.

A servant came by to clean up his fists, and another came to relieve him of his heavy armor. None of them asked him anything of comfort, as they all knew he would say no. None of them asked to go rest, or to go eat something, they knew he would refuse. They knew that when Thor had his mind set on something, he would latch and nothing could deter him.

And at the moment, he had nothing on his mind beside the men in the next room.

He has been staring at the same vase on the table for so long, that the design has burned itself into his eyelids. He seriously believes that he could draw the vase with his eyes closed at this point.

His mind has been drowning in dozens of questions, none of which he knew the answer to.

Who is he?

What is his name?

Is he okay?

Is he going to make it?

Images of the man's wounds flicker in Thor's head. He'd seen them in the dim skylight on the snow last night. And again when carrying the man into the castle. They flash in his mind with disturbing clarity, he fears that they may be too fatal. Thor attempts to convince himself that the longer the time it takes, the more thorough the healers are doing, but there is also the possibility that the boy’s wounds are so severe that they require more effort.

Thor seriously thinks about taking the vase and smashing it into tiny little pieces. Taking his hammer and grinding it into dust. 

Before he can, the door to his chambers open, and a couple of healers begin to shuffle outwards, each bowing to him before they leave. He stands up straight and off the wall to see the head healer stand before him. 

“How is he?” Thor asks immediately, his voice dry.

The healer clears his throat and nods his head. “His wounds have been stabilized, however he will be weak for a while.” The healer looks pained and tired, his face solemn. “He has been starved for a long time now, and his body is fragile, so recovery may take time.” Thor nods slowly. “He will need much care in the next few weeks, my king.”

He feels his stomach twist at the news. There is a sting in his chest, always that voice in the back of his head that says ‘your fault.’

He shakes the thought away. “Has he awoken?”

The healer shakes his head once. “Not yet, but he will soon. His body is resting at the moment, as it has been through quite a lot of trauma.”

Thor nods, ready to let the healer go .. but there was still one question that remains screaming in his head. One question that has been haunting him, that has been eating at him so painfully.

“Was he .. is he ..” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, like an anchor closing his teeth. The words cannot come together out loud, they remain inside his head, loud and scary.

The old man seems to read his mind. “There was evidence of .. sexual abuse.” The healer mutters, averting eye contact.

His heart plummets.

Immediately, he feels anger. Rage. White hot rage. He feels like punching the wall until the castle collapses into rubble.

How had he let this happen?

This was a terrible crime in Asgard, yet it was happening under Thor’s rule? What kind of king lets this happen? How long had this been going on? How many other people? The anger surges inside him, like a sea at storm.

The questions threaten to peel back his skin inside out.

He lets out a sigh and calms himself, gritting his teeth.

“I will tend to him from here on. Please only allow a certain number of healers into the room, and only to check his wounds, provide food, and ready clothes for him. As of today, he has royal priority, treat him like you would treat myself. I will do whatever it takes to heal him.”

The head healer nods, he smiles, lines below his eyes become apparent. “Yes, my king.” Before he leaves, he says quietly. “Your father would have been so proud to see you now.”

Thor lets that comment soothe his mind.

When the healer is surely gone, Thor speaks aloud. “Hogun.”

Upon hearing his name, the warrior reveals himself from the shadows, kneeling on one knee to him. Silent, but always loyal to Thor. He knew Hogun was always in his shadows, making sure everything is okay, watching out for him. He owes much to this warrior.

“Yes, my king.”

“In the second village under the mountains, I need you to find the man who did this. He committed high crime and must be punished. I do not know his name. But he had brown hair, muscular build. He should have wounds. Find him. Fandral may provide you with a clearer image.” Hogun nods. If anyone could do it, it was him. In a second, he bows and then leaves, as silent as he entered.

He would punish that man. This could not be forgiven.

What he did .. no one should ever go through. No one should bare that pain.

Finally, Thor pushes the heavy double doors open. He enters the golden bedroom of an Asgardian king, feeling the same storm of emotions inside of him. 

He strides to the bed in the center of his room, taking slow steps. On the far left side of the mattress, the raven haired man was asleep. The bed looks so large around him, like it is going to swallow him whole.

Thor walks slowly, steps echoing so loudly in the large, golden room.

When he sees the man up close, his breathing stills, air frozen inside his throat.

The man looked so fragile. There are bandages wrapped around his pale, white body and it scares Thor to touch the man. A garden of bruises in his undeserving flesh, the blood has been cleaned, but his face is still red. Thor places just a single finger on the man’s cheek.

It is so cold, like the snow the was covered in.

“I am sorry.” Thor whispers.

His beautiful face is vandalized with two bruises, and Thor can feel his bones throb at the sight.

* * *

When Thor awakens, his back is sore from sleeping on a chair that is pulled up to the bed. It seemed inappropriate to sleep in his own bed as it was occupied, and he didn’t want to leave the injured man alone.

He opens his eyes to see light pouring softly through his tall windows, it brings a comfortable warmth into the room.

The injured man is still asleep, but he shifted in his sleep, his face close to Thors. Soft, warm breaths ghost upon Thor’s face and he shivers from the contact.

He sits up and stretches, letting out a quiet groan of pain from his back. He notices that next to his bed, is a cart with a gold platter of food on it. Two plates. The exquisite aroma drifts pleasantly in the room.

On the corner of the bed there is a change of royal Asgardian clothes folded neatly.

He pulls his chair back and the scraping noise echoes loudly in the room, waking up the sleeping man.

The king stands still, unaware of what he should do, he was not used to having to care for someone like this. The man slowly stirs awake, eyes fluttering open to reveal the deepest of greens. His eyelashes collide repeatedly as he attempts to adjust to the steady flow of bright light. His limbs move gracefully as they lift him up slowly.

The raven haired man groans in pain, looking down at the bandages. His eyes move delicately and slowly as he sees the red covers, the golden pillars, the wide windows, the stained glass ceiling, the cart of food ...

And then Thor.

His body physically trembles as he starts sitting up and backing away, fingers clenching onto the covers until his knuckles are white.

Thor splays out his open palms to calm the frightened man.

“Peace! I mean you no harm.”

The man furrows his eyebrows. There is fear in the corners of his eyes, but he hides it well. “W-where am I.” His voice is hoarse and quiet.

“Somewhere safe.” Thor replies, letting down his arms.

The man looks around again, like he is making sure that this isn’t the dark alley, that there is no snow, there is no darkness. After a minute of that, he lets go of the covers and his eyes dart to the cart of food, and he bites his lip. Thor sees this and reaches for one of the golden plates. He places utensils on the plate and sets it in the space in front of the man.

“Yes, the healers have told me you have been starved. Eat.”

The man glances at the plate, and then quickly back at Thor. It reminds him of a scared animal. The man thinks about it for a second, but his stomach gives in and he reaches for the plate, promptly inhaling down the food.

Thor watches as the man cleans the plate of food quickly.

“Do not eat too fast, you will cho-“

Then he starts coughing and making strangled faces, so Thor quickly grabs the cup of water and climbs on the bed. He kneels in front of the man, takes one hand to hold his chin as gently as he can, and the other holds the cup to his mouth.

After two gulps, he surfaces for air, coughing a couple of more times. Thor takes the plate and glass and sets it aside.

The man averts his gaze from Thor, his chin wet with spilled water. Thor reaches for the man’s face to wipe away water on his mouth, but the man flinches terribly, clenching his eyes shut, like his is prepared for Thor to strike him.

Thor freezes, hand just an inch away from the porcelain skin.

Was he scary to him?

The man slowly opens his eyes, and Thor finds it hard to breathe under the weight of the emerald hue.

His hand closes the gap, thumb wiping the droplet of water. His skin is cold.

“Do I scare you?” Thor whispers.

Loki stares at him, his eyes say a thousand things, none of which Thor can decipher clearly. His lip, still swollen, it trembles so slightly that you would miss it if you blinked. “No.”  
He says, finally, and Thor knows he is lying.

Thor retracts his hand and gets off the bed, he walks toward the foot of the bed.

“What is your name?” He asks, picking up the folded clothes.

“Loki.”

“Loki.” Thor repeats. Even his name is beautiful. Fits in his mouth like it was made for him.

He walks towards ‘Loki’ and hands him the change of clothes. “Change into this. You will be more comfortable.” The thinner man gets off the bed beside him. Before Thor can turn around, Loki is already pulling off his tattered shirt, revealing a canvas of pale skin and bandages.

Thor turns around, feeling his cheeks warm.

He clears his throat, facing Loki when the sound of fabric ruffling stops. “Does it hurt?” Loki ignores his question and looks down at the embroidered clothing, his fingers trace the design. His body freezes up, fingers slightly trembling.

“Why did you save me?” His voice is cold as snow, it melts across Thor’s skin. He shivers.

“What?”

Loki closes the space between the two, he moves like water in a stream, swift and smooth. One hand cradles Thor’s face, the other placed gently on his chest. He can feel Loki’s breath on his skin, his body against his.

“Did you want me to yourself?” He whispers, staring deeply into Thor.

Thor feels his heart race, it pounds heavily.

“Did you want your very own slut?” He leans in, lips just a centimeter away from Thor’s. Their noses touch and he forgets how to breathe. “You plan to pay me with your vast amounts of gold? So that your cock can fill me up? So that you ca-“

“Enough!” He shouts, feeling the walls shake with his anger. His arm sweeps to the side in rage as he backs away. “I dare no such thing.” His skin burns where Loki touched him. “I saved you because it was right. I am not here to harm you.”

Loki laughs.

“You lie.” He says, tilting his head, smiling. “They always do.” His smile fades to a pained frown.

His chest feels so cold inside.

“I do not jest.” He turns his back to Loki, feeling rage bubble inside himself.

“You may wash yourself in the washroom connected to my chambers. If you need anything there are guards outside. Healers will come to check on your wounds and servants will provide food.” Then he makes his way to the door, unable to deal with anymore of Loki’s strange games.

He needed time alone. He needed time with his thoughts.

This was just too much.

“What is your name?” Loki yells, before he can leave.

He pauses at the door, turning his head to the left.

“Thor. Thor Odinson.”


	3. Breaths

The blonde man leaves with a slam of the tall, golden doors.

Loki lets out a scoff.

“ _Thor, Thor Odinson_.” He mocks.

Was he suppose to know who that was? “Tch.”

Whoever he was, it was clear that he was wealthy. Terribly so. The clothes Loki wore on his body? They felt like water on his skin, smooth and soft like silk, the embroidery looked like actual gold. Poor Loki, whom always wore rags on his bruised body, was wearing gold. He laughs bitterly to himself.

The bed was larger than any he had ever seen, it felt soft like a fresh layer of snow. But it was so warm, and smelled of an earthy musk that was addictive. And the room .. the room Loki had never seen anything so large and beautiful in his life. The ceiling was nothing but stained glass, with paintings of Asgard in it, a steady stream of light pouring down. The walls were golden, pillars stretching to the top, some bookcases and paintings along the walls.

The man just _bled_ wealth.

_‘Who did he belong to now?’_

And why had the man saved him anyways?

Surely, he wanted Loki to be his personal boy toy. There seemed to be no other logical reasoning. He feels a sting of betrayal tear through him, like lightning. This was nothing new. He  was just an object. Something people would use. He was nothing.

Nothing new.

He tells himself these things, repeats it in his head so much that they are burned into the corners his mind. He repeats them like some mantra that prevents him from hoping for anything. It was a concrete fact: when you have high hopes for something, it is only asking for them to be broken.

He would deal with it.

And he would deal with it like he always dealt with things:

Abandoned and alone.

He had been alone ever since he could remember, and he would be alone until he couldn’t remember anymore. Another painful truth he would tell himself.

All he had was his body. Which men always told him was beautiful. They would take him, without any warning and whisper in his ears. They would tell him sweet little words before ripping him apart with their barbaric cocks. They would only hurt him, say anything to get inside him, say anything to spill their seed inside him. They would thrust inside him like animals until sated. Then they would leave him, with some money, thinking it was enough to fix Loki’s broken body. He never asked for any of this. They didn't care.

He trembles terribly at the memory, he feels his bones shake at the mere though of it. He feels the bile rise up his throat, he felt tears on the corner of his eyelids. He bites his lip, hard enough to taste copper on his tongue. Shaky breaths.

_‘Stop it, Loki. You are stronger than this.’_

Pushing the thoughts away, he hops off the bed, feeling aching pain flood through his body. He lets out a gasp from the shock, his torn muscles and bruised skin still a little tender.

They were healed for the most part, but still sore. His hands grab the wall as he walks.

There was indeed a washroom connected to the chambers. The designs are just as beautiful as the main bedroom. Upon entrance, the first thing he sees is a large mirror that stretches quite a bit.

It reflects Loki’s frail body with striking clarity. He gasps loudly, realizing that it had been a long time since he’d seen himself so clearly. Pale, slightly discolored skin. Sharp cheek bones. Bandages. Filthy hair. It disgusted him. There was no beauty here, no matter what anyone said.

The bath is large and wide, one could mistaken it for a small pond. After a few minutes, Loki figures out how to turn on the water, and the bath fills quickly with clean, hot water. When it is full, he lowers his body into the tub, allowing the heat to swallow his skin, bringing relief to all his sore areas. He lightly scrubs his body clean, purifying it of any filth. As he marinates in the relaxing warmth, his mind continues to wander away; back to the blonde man.

Tall, big, strong. His muscles were easily visible under his clothes, wide chiseled chest, strong corded arms. The man looked like he would crush Loki with a flick of the wrist if he wanted.

He didn’t though.

His touch was gentle. Loki remembers the man’s fingers on his chin, how softly they held him. Like he was a snowflake. The touch lingers, Loki has never felt anything like it. He has never felt anything so gentle in his life. Not even the snow could touch him like that. ‘Thor’ was the first man to treat him like that.

_‘I dare no such thing!’_

The man’s shout roars within his ears still. The voice still shakes his bones. His reply was so .. genuine. His face painted strictly with anger, offense, surprise when Loki said those lewd things. 

It was some kind of dark defense mechanism. He registered Thor's intentions almost immediately after he realized the man 'rescued him'. It was just another man trying to satisfy his sexual desires, Loki knew the story all too well. So he easily winded himself against Thor, offering him words so that the man wouldn't get physical with him.

Thor's reaction puzzles Loki.

Could he possible be telling the truth? Was he truly disgusted by Loki's offer?

_No, Loki._

All men are the same. They just wish to get a good lay. To shove themselves into any hole they can find.

He tells himself these things, but they don’t settle properly in his chest. There was something about this Thor character. Something different.

_‘Do I scare you?’_

Yes _._

_Yes._

Loki closes his eyes, fingers shakily finding something hard to hold onto. The ledge of the bath is gripped tightly, his knuckles going white.

Loki wanted to scream yes. He was so scared. Scared because Thor looked at him like he was broken. Touched him like he was going to melt. Spoke to him like he would crumble away. Scared because the only thing his body knew was pain and hurt.

And Thor seemed to have no intention of that.

It takes three breaths to calm him down.

Three weak, and fragile breaths.

* * *

“How are you feeling?”

Loki turns from his perch on the ledge by the wall of windows. The golden doors are open, and enters a man who looks like a warrior. The man before him has on light armor, his short blonde locks falling down his head. He offers a small smile while stepping in front of Loki.

He doesn’t reply, just gives the man a blank look. The blonde raises an eyebrow.

“Well .. that’s great...” The man purses his lips.

Loki looks away, facing the windows again. He sits on the ledge, his knees brought up to his chest.

There was no snow here. Wherever ‘here’ was. When he stares out the windows he can see a large amount of Asgard. You can see tall buildings that reach up to touch the sky. You can see clear waters and the glistening sea. You can see countless beautiful gold structures across the land. It was all so beautiful. Nothing like where he belonged.

Loki had never seen these things of Asgard.

He only knew what was beneath the mountains.

Snow.

Winter.

“You look better than you did yesterday, out in the village.”

Loki sharply turns his head.

The blonde offers another wide smile. “I am glad we got you here in time. Had we been late by any more and the healers would have had difficulty in saving you.”

“I did not ask to be saved.” He says quietly.

“So he speaks!” The man’s lips curl upwards.

“Do not mock me.” Loki spits.

The blonde crosses his arms, but smiles. “You show a strange form of thanks.”

Did this character expect him to say thank you? Because he wasn’t going to. Trust was a difficult thing to come by, maybe an impossible thing to come by for Loki. If this man believed that Loki would expose himself to a man he just met, he was very mistaken.

“That’s because I am not thanking you. I did not ask to be saved.”

The blonde still grins. “Yes, that is because you were being beaten to death at the time.”

Loki doesn’t like this man. He smiles and laughs and grins when Loki is clearly being serious. Was he trying to charm Loki? Fool Loki?

“I am Fandral.” He grins wide, little lines under his eyes.

“I care not.” The blonde feigns a surprised look. Loki sends him glares.

“You have quite the silver tongue.”

Loki says nothing.

“It seems that your silver tongue has upset your savior this morning. He has been cooped up in one place moping and such all day. I tried to make him laugh with my wit and good humor, but he just shooed me away, told me to come here, in fact. Throwing quite the princess tantrum.”

The blonde splays out his left hand and looks at his fingers absently.

Loki swallows. “So why are you here?”

“Well, he asked  me to see how you were doing. Apparently you are quite well; spouting rude comments and upsetting his majesty.” The man walks over the a chair and falls down on it, his legs crossed. He lets out a tired sigh.

“His what?” Loki turns his body to face the man.

“Pardon?”The blonde flicks his hair and looks up.

“What did you call him?” Had his ears heard wrong?

“His majesty?”

Loki furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t und-“

Fandral sits up straight and gives him an earnest look. “Surely you are aware that you stand in the castle of Asgard?”

His eyes widen.

He looks out the window, noticing that he could see all of Asgard before him. The sky, the clouds, the waters. Then he looks at the room, the walls, the ceiling, the glass. He thinks of the luxuries, the clothes, the food, the bed.

It made sense.

“Castle of Asgard ..” He whispers under his breath. It seemed impossible. Why was he here, of all places. He never imagined being anywhere near this place, he never imagined being able to escape the village let alone make it to the Castle.

Fandral coughs, giving him an unreadable look.

“And that your savior is King Thor Odinson?”

The moment the words are in his ears, his breath stills.

The room stills.

His heart stills.

King .. _of Asgard_?

And then his heart races, a thousand thoughts crash against the insides of his mind. Was the man insane?

The first thing that he feels is disbelief.

“Y-you expect me to believe that the King of Asgard would be stupid enough to save trash like me?” He scoffs loudly, not knowing what to believe.

It is then does ‘Fandral’ stop smiling for the first time. He stands before Loki, eyes dark.

“You will not speak ill of my king.”

“I do not trust you or your words, Fandral.” He shouts back.

“His majesty saves you and you insult his name?!” Fandral raises his voice.

Loki clenches his fists. “I refuse to believe anything you say.”

Fandral walks up close to him, annoyance obvious in his posture. Loki does not back down, meeting his eyes with equal aggravation.

“You will apologize for be-“

“Enough, Fandral.” A voice interrupts.

They both freeze and look at the double doors.

There, stands Thor, wearing a light armor, a red cape draping behind him. He walks slowly in, and Loki feels his heart skip a beat with each step.

“My king.” Fandral kneels on one knee beside him, bowing his head.

“Rise.” The man says almost immediately afterwards.

He does.

Thor gives the man a look, and Fandral nods, leaving the room and closing the doors behind him. He gives Loki a nod as well, before he disappears.

After a minute of silence, Thor looks at him, his expression neutral, eyes ice blue. Loki doesn’t know what to think. His mind is muffled when Thor stands before him, over him, like he staring down at him. He has to force himself to breathe normally.

“How are your wounds?” His voice, is also emotionless.

Loki looks away, unaware of his feelings. “I am fine.”

“Have you eaten yet?“

“Yes.” He feels so naked before Thor.

As he promised, servants came to the room and served him large amounts of food. None of them spoke ill manneredly to him, in fact, they all offered him light words and smiles. The food was beyond words, and Loki found himself indulging for the first time in his life.

 Thor walks to the wall of windows and stares outwards. “Do you like this room? Or shall I prepare another for you?”

“I care not.” He says, unable to filter his attitude.

“Then you will stay in the room beside this one. That way you can come to me if you need anything in the night. Will that be okay for you?” Thor looks at him.

Loki nods before he realizes it. Did he want to stay here?

“I want to ask you a million things. But they will wait until tomorrow. Until you are better.”

Loki nods again.

“Do you want me here? Or shall I leave?” Thor asks like this wasn’t _his_ personal chambers.

He looks up at the man. There is an unreadable expression on him.

He nods, looking down at his feet again.

“You are quiet. Did Fandral upset you?”

Fandral’s actions and words quickly run through his mind. His entire demeanor changed when Thor walked into the room. He became proper and rigid, kneeling with fluid motions. He was a different person. And his words, they seem to be true.

“Is it the truth? What Fandral says about you.” Loki runs his eyes over Thor’s body. The armor was intricately crafted, and Loki could see the individual stitches. This was no ordinary armor.

After a moment of silence Loki looks back up at the man. His eyes are narrow, and Loki notices the light stubble on his face.

“Yes. I am king of Asgard.” Loki stills. “I was visiting my father’s grave in the mountains when I passed through the village. I heard your screams and I came.”

He wasn’t lying.

Loki doesn’t know how he feels. A coalition of emotions storm inside of him. Part of him wishes to run right out the door. Another wants to stay and see how this will play out.

His life was nothing but pain, hurt, cold. His whole life he was treated less than a person, forced into selling parts of himself so that he could live another day. Loki knew nothing but pain, but here, right now, the King of Asgard stood before him. Saved him.

The thought of it was impossible to him.

The thought of anyone saving him, was impossible, let alone it being the king.

But clearly, he stood infront of him. With his ice blue eyes and warm skin. He stood in front of him now. Spoke to him. Looked at him. Touched him.

“Do you fear me still?” Thor says, breaking his train of thought.

Yes.

_Yes._

He wants to scream yes. Because no one has ever saved him before. And no one has ever looked at him like he was more than nothing before. No one has ever been gentle with him and no one has ever cared for him.

He wants to scream yes until his lungs wither.

But he doesn’t.

“No.” He whispers.

And Thor smiles.

 

 

 


	4. Cracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a friendly reminder that I am not an expert in norse mythology or anything like that. I am only slightly familiar with the Thor movies. If you have any questions please leave a comment and I will try my best to clarify the story. I am sorry for any confusion in this fic!

 

“Did you not sleep well?”

Thor stares at the man across the table from him. His skin is pale like it swallowed a sea of snow, there are dark rings around his eyes, and he looked sleep deprived.

They eat breakfast together, or, Loki focuses solely on his food and Thor watches absently. They sit in a private dining room, the one where Thor would eat when he wanted solitude. Loki sat in front of him, and had been quiet the entire morning. He was a veiled man, Thor observes, Loki never spoke unless spoken to and was usually quiet.

“I slept fine.” He does not look up from his plate.

He was clearly lying, the way his eyes shifted away from Thor.

“You look as if you did not rest at all.”

Loki doesn’t say anything.

“Is it the room? I can have it change-“

“I slept fine.” He repeats, biting his lip.

The king lets out a little sigh. “Thor.”

Loki looks up from the plate, but not exactly in his eyes. “What?”

“Call me Thor.”

The man doesn’t respond. As usual.

Thor had gone to both Sif and his mother, asking for their advice. All week Loki seemed to say no more than three words at a time. Usually his responses were solely ‘yes’ or ‘no’, and that was it. Thor wasn’t used to being ignored. Not in the slightest. Especially when he had good intentions, so it was a bit disheartening trying to get Loki’s attention. He felt like a boy in his youth trying to get a pretty girl’s attention.

It was unnerving.

Sif, who seemed to know plenty about these things (something about ‘Thor you have less charm than a rock’), told him to build trust. She assumed that Loki was still wary of Thor, she said that trust was probably a sensitive topic when it came to Loki. He was hurt recently, so Thor had to show that he wanted to help.

Sif always had an eye for ‘feelings’ in people, she was very good at analyzing situations and acting appropriately. She knew how to handle things without even lifting a finger, (whereas Thor would just take his hammer and deal with the problem, which wasn’t an option here).

As far as he could tell, Thor was showing no intentions of malice. He asked unobstrusive questions, most of which were as simple as ‘are you hungry?’, ‘how was your sleep?’, however Loki would answer dully. Thor had attempted to show interest, but he had no clue on how to properly do it without making a fool of himself.

When he came to his mother for help, she simply giggled at him, saying something about how Thor always had problems like this, always a man of action instead a man of words. His mother gave sound advice, as she always did. She just told him to be kind and patient. That Loki was most likely attempting to adjust to the new life, and that he was used to something terrible in the past. It would take time and care before Loki would be able to trust Thor, or be comfortable doing anything around Thor.

It was all very complicated.

“You can ask me, Thor.” Hearing the man speak first was a surprise.

He breaks away from his thoughts and realizes he is glaring at Loki. Thor looks elsewhere before he was caught.

“Ask you what?”

Loki looks up, his face unamused. “Whatever it is you want. Whatever it is that has been bothering you all morning. All week. You want to say something, but you end up just staring at me. You seem to think that I don’t see you prodding at me. So ask. I will answer you. _Your majesty_.”

Thor’s eyebrows raise. He certainly had a tongue. And an attitude.

He clears his throat. There were so many questions he planned on asking, but now he didn’t know what to say. Loki was a puzzle that Thor had no clue on how to solve. He knew little to nothing about the man, at this point, asking anything would be useful.

“Do you have family?”

Loki’s expression doesn’t change. Like it doesn’t offend him, or because he doesn’t choose to show it. “No. I have no family.” The words strike cold.

“Where did you live?”

Loki takes no hesitation in speaking. “In the streets. Or in another man’s bed. Or some alley.” However, this time, he does flinch a bit, his fingers fidget just slightly. You would miss it if you blinked.

“How did you ..”

“Live? Men took me, bedded me, and then paid me for my services.” His eyes darken, and Thor can tell that there was much more to this situation. Thor feels his stomach twist. And he hates that it affects him more than Loki cares to show. The raven haired man just sits there, with an empty space in his eyes, like he is off somewhere else.

“Was it your choice?” Thor asks, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Was it my choice to be raped?" He spits. "No. But I quickly learned to act like it was. I had no choice. They thought that throwing some coins on my body made everything okay. It wasn’t.” His voice quivers, eyes shaking from left to right. He forces his fingers around the edge of the table to stop them from shaking.

Thor feels his heart crash against his ribs, each time pumping rage into his body. His breathing becomes inebriated off of the anger, he tries to relax.

“What .. what if you didn’t act like ..” He says through a clenched jaw.

“Like I liked it? Well, then they would hurt me.” Loki says it like he’s simply saying his name. Like it is normal. And that pains Thor in the worst of ways.

Anger begins to manifest inside his blood, rushing throughout his body. The table bends where Thor grips it, his fingers crave to hold mjolnir.

“Then. That night.” He says through closed teeth.

Loki trembles, and he probably didn’t even realize it. “That night, I was tired of pretending. He found me in the alley, tried to take me, but I didn’t want it anymore. I couldn’t do it anymore. So I fought. And I screamed. And he still tried to take me, hands on my skin, mouth on my neck. And then he beat me.”

Thor stands and rage overtakes his control. He throws his fist into the nearest wall hard enough to rattle the room. The wall dents, a large crater where his bleeding fist impacted it, four large cracks branch off into smaller ones. His other arm rests against the wall, his forehead placed gently on it. The pain is unregistered, he breathes heavily, staying still, his hand embedded into the wall. He yells once in anger.

The rustle of flesh against metal distracts his attention. He turns his head to see two guards at the door. Thor waves his hand to signal them away, and they do so reluctantly.

Loki stands and walks over to him, eyes looking anywhere but at him. In his pale, slim fingers, is a torn piece of red cloth. He stops right next to Thor, and he can’t help but stare at Loki. His slender hand grab’s Thor’s wrist, gentle, soft, his touch is cool upon Thor’s hot skin.

Loki presses the cloth to Thor’s bleeding knuckle. It stings, but Thor doesn’t care. He can only render Loki’s pristine features. His long, ebony hair, it reminds him of streams of outer space. His pale, smooth face, it mirrors the midgardian moon. His green, deep eyes they look like the dust of broken emeralds.

“I am sorry.” Thor whispers, unable to look at the man anymore.

“You have no right, _King_ Thor.” Loki whispers, his eyes focused only on the red cloth that was beginning to deepen in color. “It is not your place to apologize.”

“How can it not be?” Thor says.

Loki stops. “Were you the one who forced himself inside me? Were you the one who beat me? Hurt me?” Thor says nothing. “Then you have no right to apologize to me.”

“I am your king, it is my duty to-“

“I do not need your pity!” Loki exclaims, backing away.

Thor clenches his teeth, eyes sharp on Loki’s face once again. “I do not pity you.”

“Don’t you?” He whispers. Thor sees anger flaring in Loki’s eyes.“You save me. You feed me. You clothe me. You give me your bed. You apologize for things you cannot control.” His whispers grow louder and louder, anger in his throat. “If you do not pity me then what exactly are you doing!” He shouts loudly, letting go of Thor’s fist.

Thor can see tears in the corner of his eyes.

“Loki, I-“

The man turns and leaves before Thor can say anything else.

* * *

“Why are you upset, my king?” He hears Volstagg’s hearty voice ask.

A day since Loki’s outburst and still Thor had not finished wading inside his emotions.

Thor stands solid in the throne room, eyes glued out the wide strip of glass that overlooks Asgard. He does not turn to face his warriors three. They enter and stop at the steps of the throne, boots echoing in the room.

“I am not.” He says, eyes running over the beautiful lands before him. They seem so familiar, Thor feels like he knows it better than the lines on his palm. The golden buildings that define the growth of Asgard. The pristine waters and lively trees that give life to Asgard. The mountains and hills that watch over Asgard. He has spent so much of his life memorizing this view. How could it be that there were things even he did not see?

“The broken wall seems to say otherwise.” He turns to see Fandral grinning. The blonde has a lightness in his eyes, it tells Thor that he is worried for him. “We waited a day so as not to be punched as well.”

“It was not the food, was it? Surely your breakfast did not cause you to pummel inanimate objects?” Volstagg furrows his eyebrows, hands resting on his hips.

Thor lets a small smile slip as he descends the steps. “No, it was not, Volstagg.”

“Then it was the raven boy?” Fandral tips his head, eyes all-knowing. “He has been on your mind ever since we rescued him.” Fandral nudges him, giving that cavity-inducing smile. “Does our king have a little crush?”

Hogun, silent as he was, reaches over and smacks Fandral on the back of the head.

“Ouch! Sheesh, Hogun, use your words Hogun. Words. We talked about this.” The blonde rubs the back of his head. Hogun gives him a glare.

Thor lets out a sigh. “Indeed, I am thinking of Loki.”

“What troubles your thoughts?” Volstagg asks, hand coming up to rub his beard.

Thor pauses for a long time, wallowing in his mind. There were so many things that troubled his thoughts. Where would he begin? “He has gone though some terrible things, my friends. Things I cannot imagine would be bearable to any person. Things even I fear to repeat in my thoughts, let alone say aloud.”

“You feel guilty.” Thor looks up at Hogun. He seldom speaks, but when he does, it is almost always correct, especially when he is reading Thor.

Thor nods slowly. He walks a few steps away from them, facing the glass. “Do you think me a bad king?” He asks.

Fandral is first to speak. “If you are a bad king, then Hogun is the most talkative man I have ever met!” There is another smack sound followed by a groan.

Volstagg steps closer to him, a hand finding his shoulder. “My king, you could not have known what happened at that village. It is foolish to think you are responsible. You are king, but even a king only has two eyes.”

“He is right.” Fandral says with a more serious voice. “What the raven boy has endured is unacceptable, but it is not your fault that these things happened to him.”

Thor turns back around. “I cannot take any more chances.”

“What do you plan on doing, my king?” Volstagg asks. “Whatever it is, you may tell us and we will aid you in your actions.”

He thinks for a moment. He wanted to stop this from ever happening to anyone again. He would provide resources and shelter to anyone who required it. He would start a relief operation, providing protection for orphans or for the homeless. Stationing just a couple of soldiers in each region of Asgard could help with monitoring suspicious activity. He would vocalize to any silent victims, that they needed not suffer any more. He would protect his people.

Mostly, he wanted to ascertain any and all men who hurt Loki. He would punish them for their actions. Nothing could repent for the scarring of Loki, but he needed be brought to justice.

He looks at Hogun. “Did you find the man?”

Hogun nods. “He is in a cell.”

“And?”

“He says little.” Thor furrows his brows, sparks of anger lingering in his hands.

“I wish to speak with him.”

“Yes, my king.”

* * *

 

A/N: This was actually a very frustrating chapter for me, I had extreme writer’s block. I don’t ever have a set out outline, I just write as I go, so hopefully it doesn’t seem to ‘rushed’ or whatever. 


	5. Pauses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some vulgar language and description in this chapter that may be inappropriate for some readers. Please be warned. Enjoy the angst! :)

The man did not sustain any serious injuries, from the other night. Aside from a couple of cuts on his skin from Fandral’s saber and a nasty bruise on his face from Thor’s fist, the man was normal. _If being a repulsive animal who abused innocent boys was normal._

Hogun told him it did not take much effort to find the man, he was in the second village, in a pub drunk out of his mind. He didn’t put up much a fight, and probably didn’t even know where he was at the moment. Swine.

Thor stares at him through the barrier for a good ten minutes. He tries to calm the storm that was collecting in the corner of his hands. He tries to relax for a good ten minutes. Any less and he wouldn’t be able to contain his anger. Any less and the guards would have to pry his white fingers from the man’s throat. He would have mjolnir break his every bone, and afterwords let Lady Sif have her fun with the man.

Lady Sif would do much worse than Thor. She did not tolerate any of this. At all.

The moment Thor explained the situation to her, she was outraged, furious, like an angry dragon ready to spew fire from her lips. She always had a iron fist for men who would abuse other people, men who would think they were higher than anyone else. She dealt it with for a good amount of her youth, men trying to heighten themselves. It made her sick. Turns out she is tougher than a good amount of men in Asgard.

The moment Thor said this man was apprehended, Sif wanted to go down and show him her blade and fist. Thor hadn’t wanted that, not yet. Yes, he wanted to punish the man for his wrongdoings, but not after he talked to him first. He wanted to know everything there was to know about the entire situation.

But he truly, truly just wanted to deal with this with his fists instead of his words. There was no reason not to. It was simple, this man raped and hurt Loki. He had to be punished for it. At this point, as Thor stands a foot away from the man that brutally hurt Loki, he seriously reconsiders it. Seeing the atrocious man lay in the bed, seeing how relaxed he looked. The waves roared inside him, fingers tingling to cradle mjolnir.

The prince of Asgard may have caved in the moment he saw the prisioner, but .. Thor wasn’t the same man he was before.

He takes five pauses and steps into the cell.

He enters the cell block with loud steps, causing the sleeping man to jolt awake off his bed. The man scrambles to his feet, eyes adjusting to the light, his feet barely balanced.

“Who’re you?” He says quickly, and Thor wants to rip his voice out of his throat. He looks at Thor with dark eyes.

 “You will not speak unless spoken to, or I will make sure you never speak again.” Thor says as calmly as he can.

The man grits his teeth, like he is forcing himself not to launch at Thor.

“What is your name?” Thor tries his best not to lash out.

The man looks to weigh his options at the moment. It takes a second before he replies. “Nord.”

“Do you know why you stand in an Asgardian cell?” Thor can’t help but stare at the man’s features. His muscular build, filthy skin, rough hands, beefy arms. He hated picturing any part of this man touching Loki. He hated that those fingers touched Loki against his will, that his skin rubbed against Loki against his will. It makes him want to vomit.

“No, but I have a feelin’ you’re gonna to tell me.” He rolls his eyes at Thor, and in a second he is on the ground clutching his stomach. Thor kicks him hard enough to make him keel over on the floor, groaning in pain.

“I found you beating a boy to death a week ago. Do you not think that was something that could put you in here?” Thor spits.

The man looks up, still clutching his stomach, and there is a moment where his eyes widen. His black, dark eyes fissure open in realization. They were like empty craters. They weren’t even worthy of having Loki’s _reflection_ in them.

“You were the one who took him.” He whispers. “The one who punched me.” He says through clenched teeth. “The one who fuckin’ got in the way.”

“Yes. I would have done much more had the boy not been on the brink of death.”

The man narrows his eyes, fist loosely clenched. “What for? Because I was giving a slut what he wanted?”

“Watch your tongue.” He growls immediately.

The man laughs. “He was asking for it. That cute ass and grabable hair. Seeing him just laying there, he was just begging to be bedded.”

Thor feels his blood boiling. His fingers curl into a ball, nostrils flaring . “I will rip your tongue out if you continue speaking in such manner.”

The man continues, smiling. “He should be glad we were even paying him for our services. With all that we did for him.”

_We?_

“There were more than one?”

The man just chuckles.

“Of course there was. Word spreads fast when there’s a new toy to play with.” The  words slide off his filthy tongue, straight to Thor’s fists.

Thor feels his stomach churn, his breaths become slightly labored.

“What. Did you say?” Thor’s nails dig into his palms, his fists tight.

“We were already pounding our thick cocks into him, he should have been grateful for that. Screaming and moaning like an animal. It only made us want to fuck him more.”

This _monster._

What was he even saying? What was _wrong_ with him?

The words go through Thor’s ear, but all he can feel is rage. So much rage. Thor’s eyes widen, his bones waning under the weight of his anger. “You think he liked it?” The words slide out the slits of Thor’s teeth, each pungent with anger. He has to force the words out of his mouth.

The man grins. “We didn’t really care if he did or didn’t.”

Thor feels his chest tighten, his lungs trying their absolute best to breathe. Breathe, Thor. He is just trying to get under your skin.

“What? Did he not tell you yet?” He grins so menacingly Thor wants to knock out every tooth in his gums. He wants to end him. “That wasn’t the first time I tried to fuck him. Hell, I’ve fucked him so many times my name should be written on his sweet little ass. Doesn’t matter though, each time I do his little hole is still tight around my cock.”

The words crawl off the man’s tongue and Thor feels his bones break from the rage. He can’t take it anymore. Old habits die hard.

He moves so quick, slamming his hand around the man’s neck. The man is easily suspended in the air, pinned against the wall with Thor’s hand wrapped neatly around his neck. His fingers tighten hard, pulling the man high off the ground, grinding him into the wall. He begins to choke, hands clawing at Thor’s forearm. To no avail. Thor wants to crush every bone in his tiny throat. He wants to hurt him twice as much as he hurt Loki. Thrice. He wants to make him pay for every single wound on Loki’s skin.

Nobody was going to get away with hurting Loki.

“I would crush your cock into dust with my hammer, too bad it is already too small to find, you disgusting beast.” After seconds of choking, “Now watch your tongue before I rip it out along with your throat.” The man nods as best as he can, tears streaming down his cheek. Thor throws the man violently into the ground, as hard as he can, earning him a loud groan of pain.

“You will rot in this cell for the rest of your life until, and maybe if you tell me the names of the men, I won’t break every pathetic bone in your body.”

The man crawls up to a wall, gasping for air. Gasping for life. There is fear somewhere in his dark, empty eyes. He shakes violently, clinging ont the bed.

“O-okay. Okay.”

“You will tell them to the guards, I no longer wish to be in the presence of trash.”

Thor leaves as fast he can, letting the guards take over. His legs burn with emotion, each step is heavy on the ground.

He strides past Fandral whom is standing directly outside the cell, listening to the entire conversation.

He leaves with all the energy and anger in his body.

He just wanted to breathe.

* * *

Rain.

Thunder.

Lightning.

The three sing across Asgard, connecting land and sky. 

Thor stands outside the balcony of his room. Standing under the rain for unknown hours. The rivulets of water darken his clothes, stick his hair to his face, create puddles around his feet. The cold water numbs his skin, mutes his anger. The thunder muffles his rage, roaring under the clouds. The bright lightning runs across the sky, illuminating the night.

Even as hours pass, he still can’t stand the feeling of being inside this skin of his. He feels disgusting just by hearing  the voice of that man. The disgusting echos of his filthy tongue. The speak of how he .. how he hurt Loki. How _they_ hurt Loki. How could anyone do that? How could anyone find pleasure in doing such a thing?

He screams into the sky, screams until his throat is sore. The thunder hides his anger, raging across the land, mocking him, mocking the God of Thunder.

Fandral finally walks in front of him. The blonde had been standing outside in the rain with him all this time, not wanting to move away from his king, from his friend.

Thor looks up at him through wet eyelashes. Fandral is equally soaked, his hair flat, beautiful blue eyes the only source of color in the thick curtain of rain. His hands snake to the back of Thor’s head, pulling him into Fandral’s shoulder. Thor wraps his arms around his friend tightly. There is warmth under the wet rain that clings on his skin, and Thor appreciates it.

They stand there, Thor embarrassed to be so vulnerable in his friends arms. He was a king now. He shouldn’t be so pliable under his emotions. He should be strong. He should be in control of his own feelings. Except he wasn’t. He was still the angry, irrational prince that his father disapproved of.

What would his father say if he saw Thor now? Would he be disappointed? Would he give Thor that look of his? The look in his eye that would say everything? The look of disappointment. Thor was familiar with it. He could fish it out of even the deepest corner of his mind, it always was there, reminding him of who he shouldn’t be.

He remembers his father’s last words. He often repeated them in his mind:

“I am proud of you my son. You are strong. Protect Asgard with that strength.”

At his father’s deathbed, Thor could not believe the words, he could not hear it through the last breaths of his father. At the time he only wanted to cradle the fleeting warmth of his father’s skin. Those few words ring within his ears, each time Thor is unsure of himself.

They ring within his ears now. They tell him to be strong.

He wanted to be strong. But there was this thick cloud of guilt handing over his heart.

“Lets go inside, my king. Please. Sif will have yours and my head both.” He whispers to Thor.

He nods and releases his arms from Fandral. They both trudge back into his room, painting puddles of water wherever they walk.

Fandral walks to the far wall, opens a drawer to pull out to towels, handing one to Thor, and draping one on himself. The warrior manages to grin under the droplets of rain on his face.

He glances at his friend, who is entirely drenched, not a single dry spot on his body. “I am sor-“

“You need not apologize, my king. I would stand next to you in the rain for the rest of my life, if you wanted me too.” Thor rolls his eyes, beginning to feel the pain evaporate.

“That line is getting old, Fandral. You will have to try better to woo me.” The two laugh and Thor attempts to dry his hair.

“Do not worry, I have many more lines.”

“Do not attempt to feed me the lines you use on women! They will not work on me.” Thor grins, thankful for his friend.

“Of course not, my king. You only get the best!”

He begins undressing, taking off his light armor and top, feeling the fabric cling to his skin from the rain. In no time he is shivering around the puddle of water and fabric on the floor. His pants cling stubbornly to his legs, and Thor just wants to take a hot bath. He looks up hoping to see Fandral frowning at him.

There is a short silence as the blonde looks at him with heavy eyes. “Thor.” He says, after awhile.

Thor widens his eyes in surprise, Fandral never used his name in the castle. “Y-yes brother?”

Fandral walks up to him and places a hand on his shoulder. Thor shivers from the warmth. “You are a magnificent king. The skies could not tell you otherwise. The sea could not tell you otherwise. No one can tell you otherwise, none except yourself. I tell you this until my voice dries, but you seem to not listen to me with that stubborn head of yours. Do not try to be the king your father envisioned you to be, try to be the king _you_ want to be proud to be. If I could choose anyone to rule Asgard, I would choose you a million times over. Everything that happens is not your fault, stop blaming yourself for things you shouldn’t be.”

Thor smiles wide, feeling warm just from his friend’s words. They melt into his heart, sorting out the confusion.

“Thank you.” He says after a long pause.

Fandral shakes his head once and returns the smile. “You need not thank me for speaking the truth. Now go clean yourself before you get sick.”

“Same to you, brother.”

Fandral leaves with a curt bow.

“Good night.”

* * *

A/N: I enjoy writing short chapters for this fic for some reason. But I will be updating soon! 

 


	6. Times

The hot water anchors Thor’s body in the tub, warming all the numb skin. He lets out a groan of pleasure from the contact, waiting for the warmth to wash away the cold rain in his pores. He loses track of time in the bath, mind wandering to thoughts that have been haunting him all week. The emotions are absent, having been torn out of his throat an hour ago, lost in the storm. Only thoughts remain. Little whispers tumbling in his mind. They don’t seem to be any better than the loud emotions, though.

His mind leaps from thought to thought, trying to make sense of a hurricane of problems.

Some of which were about his growth as a King.

He thinks about how far he has come, how much he has accomplished and how much _more_ he wanted to accomplish. How he wanted to improve. How he planned to be better. How he realized that he _was_ getting better. Fandral’s words spoke mountains to him, efficiently opening his eyes to things he was blind to. It was exaclty what he needed to hear, the correct words that saved him from falling into a pit of self-loathing. He was going to try and be a king _he_ would be proud of.

He thinks of Volstagg’s encouragement from the throne room. He was right, Thor couldn’t change the past, but he had power to change the future. He goes over his plan of action. What he implemented in order to sort out this entire affair. It wasn’t going to be simple, but with a little effort, he was sure it was possible. He hopes his effort will bring positive results.

He would start a relief operation, provide resources, provide shelter, station men, capture the guilty. The guards would report to him the list of names tomorrow. Thor would be prepared for it. He would do whatever it took to bring Loki to justice.

He would show Loki that there was such a thing has healing. That there are such things as trust and hope in this land.

Images of Loki flash into his mind.

Images of his helpless body being beaten into the snow. Images of his wounds next to his scars. Images of him flinching under Thor’s touch. Images of him fleeing from Thor’s rage.

It puzzles him.

Someone he had just met a week ago was changing him into another man. Thor doesn’t know if he should be afraid or grateful. Or if both was possible. He lets the question remain unanswered inside his head.

He would find out, in due time.

* * *

When Thor finishes taking the hot, cleansing bath, he walks into his room to find Sif entering his doors at the same time. She greets both guards, closes the doors, and walks up to Thor, her face wearing an unpleasant expression.  

“Sif. What brings you to my quarters? Is something wrong?” He says, drying his hair with a towel, another wrapped around his waist.

Upon seeing him, she walks up to him and slaps the side of his arm.

He whines from the sudden punishment. “What was that for!” Thor pouts, rubbing the spot.

“Fandral spilled.” She crosses her arms beside his bed. She was still in her armor, hair pulled back into a ponytail. Of course Fandral spilled. There was no woman the man was afraid of, none except Sif. To be honest, Thor was sure everyone was afraid of Sif.

“I shoud’ve figured. How long did it take?” Thor finishes drying his hair, tossing the towel aside.

“Ten seconds. All I had to do was stare at him while he was leaking everywhere.” Thor rolls his eyes.

“I am well.” He says innocently.

“Yes, I’m sure you are. Because well people shatter walls in two for breakfast.” Thor groans. If there was one thing Thor has learned about this castle, it was that gossip spreaded faster than wildfire.

“It wasn’t that.”

She unfolds her arms and leans against the bed post. “Then what was it?”

Thor walks to the drawers on the far wall, slipping on clothes out of Sif’s sight while explaining to her. “I went to speak to the man who hurt Loki.” He lets out a sigh, walking back to her, not ready to repeat this story. She faces him with a stern look.

“And?”

He explains the event to her in little detail, choosing to skip over some rather explicit details. She still radiated anger just by what Thor tells her, fire drowning out the color of her eyes. There were still remnants of anger inside of him as well, as he retells the story. He expects it of course, but it still catches him off guard.

“That vile beast!” She slams her palms into the bedpost. “And there were more than one!” She wears a determined look. “I will crush his skull and those who are alike!”

“Aye. I feel the same, sister.”

He explains to her his plans to deal with it, and they seem to please her. She still wears her angry expression, but she nods with each of his propositions.

“I have a request.” She says, there is a glint in her eyes that appeases him.

“What is it Sif?”

“I wish to take these matters into my own hands, Thor.” He raises an eyebrow.

“But-“

“Please. Let me.” Thor can see the determination in her eyes. She wanted nothing more than justice for her people. And maybe for herself. “You will oversee everything, I just wish to have a part. People like that should not be able to roam free while victims cower silently in fear.” He sees Sif lost in her own thoughts, most likely coming across unpleasant memories of her own.

Sif spent a lot of time living in the shadow of men who thought they were better than her. She didn’t take the misogyny lightly, letting the discrimination fuel her courage. She grew to be a powerful woman, able to out battle any men on the royal army. Sif found every single man who ever doubted her, and she showed them her strength.

It seems she relates to Loki in this way.

“Okay.” Thor says. “You have my permission. We will work on it together, Sif.”

She looks at him and nods again. He feels relief knowing that Sif would be by his side in this affair. He felt overwhelmed, but knowing Sif was there to be an emotional anchor, he calmed. Things would go much smoother with her making sure everything was okay.

“So how are you taking this? When your mother finds out about the wall, she will surely scold you.”

Thor lets out a sigh, wishing he knew himself. “How am I taking this? I am not sure, Sif. Those men make me so .. so angry. I wished to end the man’s life with the foul words he spoke to me.” He grits his teeth. “And Loki ..”

Loki..

Sif looks at him with her knowing eyes, reading him even when he couldn’t read himself. “You seem fond of him.”

That was the second innuendo he heard today about the matter. He thinks about it’s meaning. Loki did spark something inside of himself that he wasn’t familiar with. It was a strange feeling that urged him to be protective, that forced him to care. It wasn’t bad, so to speak, but it was peculiar, feeling that way for someone he just met.

“I do not know what I feel for him.”

“And how is Loki fairing?” She doesn’t press the matter anymore and Thor is grateful. He didn’t want to think about that at the moment.

Thor lets out a sigh. He wish he knew. He had been avoiding the man ever since he fleeted from Thor, he did not want to make things worse between the two.

“You should see him. He has been alone all of his life. That does not have to continue any longer.” She gives him an unreadable look, but leaves before Thor can say anything else.

 “I will speak with you in the morning.”  

The doors close and he is left with thoughts.

* * *

Thor spends more time outside Loki’s room than he admits. The guards do not look at him strange, and he appreciates that. He doesn’t know why he is nervous, it is foolish for a king to be nervous. There was nothing to be nervous about.

So why was his heart beating faster than usual?

“Are you all right, my king?” One of the guards says.

Thor nods.

“Has he left his room?”

“Yes. He has gone to the garden, the library, and the throne room.” The guard answers without hesitating.

“The throne room?” Thor had shown Loki most of the castle, and the man took a liking to the garden and library. Thor showed him all the luxuries of the castle, and he did seem awed by the size of them all. But they didn’t seem to pique his interest. He did, howeer, seem very interested in learning and reading, and spent most of his days somewhere peaceful while Thor was working. He doesn’t recall showing Loki the throne room, and he certainly didn’t see him there.

The other guard nods. “Yes, my king. However he only stood outside for a number of minutes. He did not enter.”

“How many times did he visit?”

The guard takes a second to remember. “Six times, my king. Each time he did not enter.”

Thor nods, trying to understand why Loki would come to his throne six times but not to make his presence known once. What had he wished to say?

“Any visitors?”

“Yes, your mother and Fandral have both visited. No one else, your majesty.”

He gives his thanks and approaches the doors. Two knocks on the golden plates and he waits a second before pushing them open.

Walking into the chambers, he finds Loki staring out the windows. He stands with his back to Thor, arms behind him. He notably wears a new outfit, a black form fitting outfit with accents of gold and green. The moonlight trickled softly on his body, pale skin riveting in ways Thor would not admit.

“Loki?”

The raven haired man turns upon hearing Thor, his eyes do not catch his before he looks away.

“Thor.”

“May I speak with you?”

There is a slight pause before he answers. “Would you leave if I said no?” Loki says just loud enouh for him to hear.

“Yes.” Thor replies, running a hand through his hair.

Loki stays silent and takes one step to the left. Thor understands and he walks up to stand beside Loki, smelling clean fragrances off the man. His hair was freshly washed, black strands pulled backwards, tucked behind his ears. His skin rivaled the purity of new snow.

“What does the king seek in my presence?”

“Are you still displeased with me?” Thor asks, staring at the column of Loki’s neck. He pries his sight away before the man notices.

“I was not angry with you.” He answers. “I merely left you to your thoughts. It was not of my best interest to be broken into fifty pieces like the wall.”

Thor replies startingly quick. “I would not have hurt you.”

Loki turns his head to look at Thor, but still not in his eyes.

Thor lets out a sigh, turning to look out to the lights of his land. The buildings gleam golden under the light of the galaxy, like stars scattered amongst the earth of Asgard. The waters in the distance shift back and forth, bits of light broken in its waves.

“I was angry with myself. Not you.” It turns out to be difficult to admit.

Loki seems to think about this for a second before inquiring. “Why?” He sounds confused by Thor’s answer.

_Why indeed._

He knows that there is no good answer to Loki’s question. He himself had been searching for any type of clue for the past few hours. “You suffered things that no one should ever suffer. You were cut deeper than any sword could ever reach. I had the power to stop it, however I did not. You suffered for so long, and I did nothing to stop it.”

Loki lets out a heartless laugh, looking back out the glass. “You are foolish, King Thor.”

Thor raises his eyebrows at Loki, opening his mouth to speak. It is not everyday someone insults the king.

Loki continues. “You’re foolish for thinking you are responsible. If you had not known what was happening to me, then how could you have possibly done something to stop it? Fault is not something you play around with, Thor. Even if you are a king, you cannot take eveything like it is yours.” Thor is taken aback by the words, but does not interrupt. “I can blame those filthy monsters for raping me. I can blame myself for not fighting harder. I can even blame my parents for abandoning me. But I cannot blame you, King Thor, for you had no part in my ruin.”

Thor wavers.

When Loki spoke, even when his voice was thinner than a thread of silk, his words were stronger than tidal waves. They hit Thor relentlessley.

He turns to Loki, speaking without thinking. “Then let me be part in your renewal.”

Loki looks at him sharply, his body rigid, like the words are acid to him. “I told you before. You have no motive to help me. You had no hand in what happened to me. Therefore you have no reason to pity me.”

Thor takes a step closer, feeling the tension divide the two.

“I do not pity you, Loki, why do you not understand that?”

“You do, do not lie to me King Thor.” Loki replies quickly voice louder, his eyebrows furrowing. He turns to face Thor, disbelief thick on his face.

“I do not.” Thor says again.

“You do!” He raises his voice.

“Loki!” He tries to argue but-

“You’re a liar Thor!” Loki steps up to him, finger poking Thor in the chest. Aggravation flares in his eyes. “You do! Because all men do! All men treat me the same! They lie and deceit. They whisper and get under my skin, then they hurt me until I’m broken into unfixable pieces! You lie because all men lie to me! You pity because I am nothing more than dirt under your feet. You are no different than the others! I will not be your charity case!” Loki’s chest quivers, uneven breaths pulled into shaky lungs.

“You think I am same as them? You think I will hurt you?” Thor places the edge of his finger under Loki’s chin, just like he did the first night, Loki flinches just the same. Thor lifts it slightly, his thumb rubbing gently under Loki’s lip. It trembles. His skin is soft, the warmth is like the finest of wines on his fingers.

Loki looks Thor in his eyes for the first time in days. The striking green is deeper than any water and Thor feels like drowning just by staring at them. He feels lost, surprised that there are not stars in the depths of his cosmic eyes.

“Yes.” Loki says, eyes wide and consuming.

Thor takes his other hand and runs it through the side of Loki’s head, the black hair is smooth like water against his palm. “I will never hurt you, Loki. Trust me, please.”

“How do I trust you when everyone I have ever trusted has hurt me?” He whispers, and Thor honestly doesn’t know what else to say. He wants Loki to just trust him, because he desires nothing more than to fix Loki. He has never seen anyone broken so bad in his life. But he also has never wanted to fix anything so bad either.

“I’m not like those monsters.” The fingers that cradle Loki’s chin moves to grab his hand. He guides the man’s hand and places it on his heart. He was sure Loki could feel it racing under his ribs. “Trust me.”

Loki breaks eye contact and looks down, a few strands of hair fall from behind his ear.

“Okay.” He whispers. “Okay.”

Thor tucks the hairs back and places a chaste kiss on the man’s forehead.

“Okay.”

It turns out he should be grateful afterall.

 

 

 


	7. Blinks

The place where Thor kissed him is warm. He could still feel the gentle lips on his skin. Slightly above his left eyebrow, the kiss was soft, gentler than any man had ever touched him. He thinks of all the harsh kisses forced upon him, how they made his skin feel like it didn’t belong to him, how they would often bruise and redden.

Thor’s kiss was different. It made his flesh feel like his for once. It made his bones felt like they actually belonged. It wasn’t like the one he was used to, in fact it was entirely new. It was strange. And scary. And for some reason he couldn’t tear his mind from the thought. Lying in this bed, unable to close his eyes without the blonde antagonizing his thoughts.

Stupid lug.

What was he even thinking?

Thinking everything was his fault when it clearly wasn’t. Taking the blame for things he didn’t understand. Falling into a bout of rage because Loki was hurt. Nearly destroying the castle because of a few of Loki’s words. None of which had anything to do with him, but still he felt at fault. Why?

It was foolish. To think or feel these things. Thor had no control over the men who forced themselves on Loki. He had no knowledge of the matter either, so what on Asgard would cause him to think that this was his fault? Blame fell on nobody but the men who hurt him, and you could not convince Loki otherwise.

What Loki said to Thor, what he yelled, rather, he believed every word of it. He believed all men were the same. They all had their sexual desires, their animalistic cravings, their violent needs. They each had it inside of them, and each could be released with a single trigger. If they saw a vulnerable  Loki, they would snatch him up, take off his clothes, and shove their cocks inside him, fucking him until he screamed in pain. Loki had evidence of this, in fact he had numerous amounts of evidence to prove this. He could remember each and every time it happened. They were the same, he had no other reason to believe otherwise.

Not until now.

Not until Thor.

At first, his facade wasn’t fooling Loki. He knew better than anyone not to trust a men, no matter how beautiful they looked or no matter how sweet their words were. Loki knew better. So he chose not to trust Thor, not in the slightest. The moment he woke up and the man was beside him, the moment he saw that beautiful smile and those clear blue eyes, he swore not to fall for any tricks. He was used to it, he had fallen to them before and ended up wounded and used.

He told himself that Thor was just like the others, no matter the price of the clothes on his skin. No matter the jewels on his attire. Sure he saved him and fed him. But the moment Loki turned his back, the moment he was vulnerable, surely Thor would have his way with him.

Loki was so sure of it.

He was so, so sure of it.

He was so ready for Thor to snatch him up the moment his eyes were closed, ready for Thor to force himself onto Loki, bed him like he was his property. He was ready for the betrayal and the deceit. He was always ready. It’s something you pick up after being used your whole life.

But only in a week did Thor change his mind. Only in a week did Thor change something Loki practiced his entire life.

It turns out, there was no ‘facade’. Ever single word Thor spoke, Loki could tell they were true. Every single look, every single touch. They were each of pure thought. It only took a week for Loki to change his entire perspective of the man. Thor didn’t seem to have a selfish bone in his entire body, it seemed. And that scared Loki more than anything in the world.

With each day, Thor proves to be more and more of a mystery.

Loki runs his finger over the spot the man kissed. He could feel his heart beating in a way it never did before. Thor’s touch was warm, so warm. He could barely describe it, he had no words, nothing to compare the warmth to, nothing had ever felt the same.

He wonders if this is what summer feels like.

It was an impossible feeling. A part of him longs for the feeling again, wanting to feel alive again. Another part of Loki wanted to shout and scream and cry because there was this feeling inside of him and it demands to be felt no matter what he tries to do.

He grabs a pillow and shoves it in his face, screaming into the fabric. After his throat hurts, he throws the pillow towards the wall in frustration. What was he to do?

_“Do you wish to leave?”_

Fandral. His words echo in Loki’s head. Fandral asked Loki that question. That annoying warrior thought he was just so smooth with his words. Pretty man. Gorgeous complexion, narcissistic complex. Loki knew the type. Use the correct words with the correct movements, and he thought he could have anything he desired. Sometimes this type was scarier than the ones who just came up to you and stuck their cocks in you. Sometimes.

This man was different, Loki would admit. He had every chance to make an advance on Loki, every single chance. They were alone at times, and the man had every chance to pin him down and ravage him. But he didn’t, even with his annoying charisma and charm, there wasn’t an ounce of evil in him. He was kind. Sickeningly so.

Fandral made it a part of his ‘routine’ to come to Loki and ‘check up on him’. The idiot was usually just driving Loki insane with annoying banter and constant smiling. He asked Loki questions such as this, his eyes having this look. Like he was staring inside of Loki, instead of on the surface. Like he was observing Loki.

_Did he want to leave?_

Loki’s immediate answer was no. It was a simple answer. He was quick to realize that here, in this castle, he was safe. It made him feel like a leech, yes, but he was safe. It would be unwise to leave here, go back to the world that scarred him. He would not starve here, he would not freeze here, he would not get hurt here. He would give anything to never have to go back to .. that place. So no, was his answer.

The next question, however, wasn’t so simple.

_“Why?”_

A single word and Loki was trapped in his own thoughts for hours.

It wasn’t the fact that he didn’t know the answer. Because that wasn’t the problem, Loki always knew the answer. It was the fact that the answer was _ludicrous._

He tried to tell himself that he wanted to stay only because of the safety. The food. The luxury. The clothes. The service. The bed. The _freedom_. But then, that would have been a lie. Because, yes, the safety, the warm bed, the clean water, the filling food, it was all very nice. Anyone would have stayed if offered these things. Anyone would have accepted it to get away from a life of misery.

But that wasn’t why Loki wanted to stay.

And he hated himself because of that.

When Fandral asked him ‘why’, there was only one thing that flooded his brain.

And that thing was a tall, muscular, blonde, gentle lug named Thor.

Loki didn’t spend hours trying to figure out _what_ the answer was, he spent hours .. trying to figure out _why_ his answer was what it was. Why on Asgard would he want to stay in the confines of this castle because of a man he had just met a week ago? Why did he forget the obvious answers such as food, water, shelter. Why did he go straight for Thor? Why was Thor so important? The question seemed to brand itself into his skull, and no matter how many times it was asked, there was no answer. Just silence.

Thor was the first man to touch him like he was a person. Thor touched him much like snow touched the earth. And Loki could see the effort it took, he could see how much Thor tried to be careful, how he concentrated on not hurting Loki. He could see how Thor was used to being rough and strong, how he often handled things with his strength and power. Loki could see how hard it was to be gentle for once. He treated Loki like a snowflake, when everyone else treated him like a toy. He handled Loki like no one else ever had.

He made Loki feel alive.

And his touch was so warm. It wasn’t like when those other men touched him. Thor’s warmth was true. Stories of summer, Loki would hear them from travelling Asgardians. He hears that the warmth feels like drinking a tall goblet of mead, encompassing your entire body in warmth. There were times when Loki slept outside, no warmth on his skin beside ripped rags. When Thor touched him for the first time, Loki felt like stars were melting under his skin.

The first time Thor touched him, he flinched because there was probably only one time he had felt that warmth before.

The one time Loki ever felt warmth was long ago. The memory is blurry. It was the coldest of winters, years ago, how many , he wasn’t sure. But he was cold, so cold, he was sure that that was the end of his life. And he was almost glad for that, because he couldn’t take it anymore. He was ready to give up on life, finally become one with the snow under him.

But then a man came from the foot of the mountain. He saw Loki trembling. He picked Loki up, touched him with fingers that were so warm it burned through Loki’s frozen skin. The man placed Loki under a shelter, draping his cape and coat on him. And just like that, he was gone. Loki’s only memory of warmth.

Feeling Thor touch him, it made answering the question “Why?” simple.

Because of Thor.

* * *

He spent the following days avoiding Thor, for his mind was a sharded mess. He’d probably lose it if confronted by Thor again. All he could think about was Thor’s kiss. Thor’s smile. Thor’s eyes. It was toxic, and he hated it because he couldn’t think when the man was on his mind.

So he avoided Thor until his mind was clear. Loki needed to be alone, so he often hid away in his room, telling the guards to let no one in. (Because they treated him like he was royalty, for some reason.) It was either his room, the library, or one of the gardens.

His plan had worked, until he was discovered.

Frigga.

It was difficult to describe her. Graceful. But also very strong. In a way she resembled the ocean. Powerful enough to wreck ships, gentle enough to slip through your fingers. She was truly beautiful in ways words could not describe.

She found him in the library. He was surrounded by walls and walls of knowledge, none of which he could apprehend properly. Loki knew the basics, he knew how to read and write simple things, it did not take him long to learn those things. But he did not understand more complex concepts, he never had much opportunity to learn in his life.

When Thor showed him the library, he immediately knew that this was the most amazing place in the entire castle. He wished to read everything, to know everything, but most of them were difficult to understand having only basic knowledge. It was like trying to empty the sea with a mere cup. He wanted to do more than just see, he wanted to understand, he wanted to comprehend.

Frigga was the one who taught him these things.

“It’s a shame.” She said, her voice gentle as her eyes. “I never find Thor in these walls. He much rather swing his hammer around in the sparring field.” Loki looks up from his current book. The woman walks towards him, the guards bowing upon her entrance. He stands to bow, but she waves him off, giving a smile comparable to snow blossoms in the winter.

“I am Frigga, Thor’s mother.” And it made sense. Her hair was just as beautiful as his, her eyes possessing the same depth and hue. She walked proudly, every part of her sang beauty and strength. “He is a smart boy, my Thor. He was diligent in his studies in his youth, but that soon tapered off when he had to fill the position as king.” When she reaches the table he sits at, “I take it you are our new guest.”

“Loki, my queen.”

“Please, call me Frigga. A friend of Thor’s is a friend of mine.” She smiles. “The book you are reading is one of my favorites in this library. Do you enjoy it?”

Loki frowns. “I wish I understood it more, I am naive.” He flushes in embarrassment.

Frigga walks over to his side of the table, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder without hesitation. He feels lighter at heart when she sits down next to him, her gentle voice against his ears. It is then does Frigga teach him. She does not ask, or make a big deal out of it, she just sits down and teaches him of literature and language, reading and arts, history and astronomy.

They spend hours in that library, pausing only to eat.

Frigga is patient and calm. She waits until Loki understands something before moving on, her gentle encouragements make it easier for him to try harder. She tries different approaches, explains things in simple matters so Loki can understand. She smile and laughs, giving him praise for when he fully understands something. They repeat this every day, an hour or two spent in the library so that Frigga teaches him. He loves learning, and finds that it becomes easier and easier for him. Frigga loves teaching him and even when he does not need it, she loves watching him strengthen his mind.

Never once does she falter in her kindness, never once does she make Loki fear her. And for once, Loki feels like he has a mother. For once, he feels like someone enjoys his existence, and for once he actually feels loved.

He seldom thinks of his birth parents. They abandoned him, he should not care for them. Yes, their failures caused Loki to live a terrible life. Yes, their actions caused Loki to live in rags off of leftover foods. Yes, their abandonment caused him to be forced into sexual slavery. He blamed them, yes, but he did not care for them. Thinking of them only brought him pain.

But when Frigga looks at him, he feels like a child, an actual child with a mother.

“Loki.” She says one day after a week of studying. They are in the private gardens of Frigga. She wanted to change the scenery and brought him here. She says she only brings people she likes out here in her personal garden. Ever since her husband’s death, she has spent her time here, planting and caring for flowers. Loki is breath taken when he sees the royal garden, as it is full of colors and beauty that he has never seen before in his life. It is full of love and compassion. And it is foolish, but he is envious of the place.

He looks up at her, feeling his heart heavy in his chest, feeling so many emotions rage inside of him.

“What is wrong?” She tilts her head and looks at him.

“I..” His tongue is heavy, unable to carry words that burden his heart.

She walks over to him, they stand in the middle of some deep purple flowers. “Speak to me. Tell me what burdens your heart.”

“No one has ever ..” He says, feeling the words slip out of his mouth before he can catch them. But he doesn’t feel fearful here, in front of Frigga. Only guilt. She makes it easy to think and feel. “I did not have a mother.” His words are sharp and disconnected. “My birth parents abadoned me in the cold. No one has ever .. loved me. No one has ever cared for me.” Then there is pain in his heart, tears in his eyes, and he hates to be weak before Frigga, whom is always strong. “But you .. you and Thor ..”

He holds back. He really tries to hold back, blinking away tears before they can leave his eyelids. But he can only blink back the tears seven times before they spill over his eyelids. He turns around. “I am sorry. I do not want to disappoint you with my tears. I do not want to burden you with my impurities.”

He hears a sigh from her, and the footsteps of her soft feet. She walks in front of him and pulls him into her arms, cradling him.

“You will not disappoint me if you cry, Loki. You will disappoint me if you think I look down upon you. As long as you live under this roof, you shall be my family. We will care for you.” She places a hand in his hair, running her fingers through it. “Cry, my child. Cry and my bosom will catch your tears. You must not fear your impurities, you must accept them, for they make you who you are. Over come them. But for now, cry. Cry until you cannot anymore.”

And he does.

 

 

 


	8. Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, this story has no beta! So for any mistakes, feel free to notify me and I will fix them, thanks.
> 
> I'm not very happy with this chapter at all, hopefully it turned out alright.

It had been eight days.

Eight days since he last saw Loki.

The day after he talked to Loki, things became different. Thor attempted to visit Loki, heart in hand, probably a wide smile on his face, believing that he had finally gotten through to Loki. It pained him a little when the guards notified him that Loki did not want any visitors, including Thor. The guards seemed reluctant to tell their king this, but when they did, Thor didn't feel any anger. Just pain. He had the authority to barge open, of course, but that would be a breach of trust, so he didn’t. If Loki did not wish to see him, then he would not push it. He would endure the tight feeling in his chest until Loki was ready to speak with him.

After that, he left Loki to himself, not bothering to look for him. That was eight days ago and Thor never felt so empty before. It was strange, like Loki made a nest in his chest, and when he wasn't there to fill that space, Thor felt incomplete.

He often thought about the night he talked to Loki, trying to figure out if he had done something wrong, trying to see if he said something wrong. He didn’t know what made him act towards the man in such a manner, he just followed his gut, did what felt right. And at that time, it felt right to touch him, tell him the truth, feel his hair, reassure him, kiss him. He thought it had worked, Loki said he would trust Thor. He finally spoke words that Thor never expected to hear. What went wrong?

_“But I cannot blame you, King Thor, for you had no part in my ruin.”_

Thor ran those words through his ears time and time again. The entire conversation was scrawled on his heart, reminded him everytime it beat. He just wished to care for Loki, to fix him, to show him that he wasn’t broken permanently. He’s never wanted anything more in a long time. Did he make a mistake? Did he move to fast? Did he scare Loki off?

The whole situation just set on the top of his heart, painful and raw.

It was ironic, in a way.

Thor hurt in ways never he’s never hurt before. King Thor. ‘God of Thunder’ as they so called. He could withstand almost anything, heal from almost anything. His body was made like steel. It would bleed and bruise only if he wanted it to. He never breaks, never falters from any blow. He could heal from any injury, pain was barely registered.

But yet, here he was, hurt because Loki was _avoiding_ him. Hurt because of a man’s past. Hurt because of a man’s wounds. Because of his scars. His pain. Hurt because he couldn’t do anything for the man who made him feel so much. There were no wounds on his skin, no blood trickling out of his veins, no bruises on his bones, yet there was pain in his chest.

It that was the truth: Loki was a conondrum. A toxic blessing that refused to go away, changing Thor in ways he never thought possible. A quenched ocean, a starving desert. Something he tried to understand but only became more confusing with each thought.

He just wish he understood.

“Today?”

He had asked this question eight times, for the eight days Loki was absent from his view.

Hogun gives him a blank look that also translated as ‘are you serious?’. He sits on his throne, Hogun at the foot of the steps. His valued warrior was in the throne room at the end of every day this week, reporting to Thor. He assigned the stealthiest man he knew to keep an eye on Loki, to make sure he was alright. It wasn't constant watching, but more like 'checking up' on him.

“I have been watching his actions for the past week Thor, care to tell me why I have been stalking Loki?” Hogun was never one for formalities, spoke to Thor like he did when they were still boys. Treated him almost as an equal. No one really cared to scold him about it, but then again he was quiet when other people were around. Thor enjoyed it.

“No reason. And you aren’t ‘stalking’ him. Merely making sure his health is not wavering.” Hogun looks as if he is entirely done with Thor’s games.

“Thor. You’ve asked me to watch him constantly. Where he’s been, who he’s talked to, what he’s eaten. Frankly, I am starting to feel very uncomfortable. The guards believe that I have a crush on the boy. So please tell me why I have been asked to STALK Loki.”

He purses his lips. Loki was potentially crippled two weeks ago, it was obliged that Thor had to keep an eye on him. Despite the man’s refusal to see him, he still had to make sure Loki was healthy.

“As I said before, no reason.”

“You’re lying Thor.”

“Maybe.”

Hogun narrows his eyes, rubbing his temples softly. “If you like him, why don’t you go tell him already, this isn’t like we were boys and you had a crush on every girl.”

He stutters, face flushing pink. “H-Hogun! You dare accuse your king of such a thing!? I do not ‘like’ Loki. He is our guest. We must show him our utmost care and hospitatlity.”

Hogun, of course, sees right through him and knows he’s lying. “So why don’t you go see him yourself?”

Thor’s left eye twitches. He runs his hands through his hair a couple of times. “I’ve been busy. The kingdom won’t rule itself Hogun.”

“You’ve been sitting in the throne room doing nothing all day.”

Thor sits up in his throne, looking around the empty room. He had a point. “It’s been a slow day, okay?”

Hogun slaps a palm to his forehead, letting out a hefty sigh. “I give up. Loki just left the private gardens with your mother. He is now in his room. Now, as I have completed my duty as a royal stalker, may I please be excused?”

“You sure are talkative today aren’t you.” Thor says, narrowing his eyes.

Hogun looks undisturbed.

They have a little staring match.

Thor loses.

“Royal gardens?”

“Yes, your mother seems to have a great liking for the boy. In fact, a good deal of the people in castle seem to have attention for him. That is, everyone but you.”

“I’m busy.” He coughs.

“Liar.”

Thor says nothing. He couldn’t. Loki barred him from seeing the man. As much as Thor wanted to storm into his room, grab him by his hands and hug him, he couldn’t.

“He misses you, my king.” Thor sits up straight, choking on air.

“W-what?”

“He seems to be disoriented, lost in his thoughts, when alone. Unlike how he is when you are nearby. Common sense denotes that he misses your presence. You should swallow your pride and see him.”

“Hogun-“

Hogun kind of smiles, but not really. The warrior bows, and backs away, leaving the door open just a little. And leaves.

 A talkative Hogun is never a good Hogun.

* * *

He listens to Hogun in the end, deciding to face Loki.

He chooses to knock on the doors once before entering, feeling the impatience of eight days finally let free. The guards say nothing to their king, just a nod of the head. They don’t remind him of Loki’s request. He wonders what they think.

At first glance, Loki isn’t in the bedroom, as it is empty. The bed is unmade, sheets tousled as if Loki attempted to sleep. There is a pillow laying on the floor, idle. Either the maids weren’t doing their job or Loki was having a temper tantrum.

There is a slight draft easing in the room, it feels fresh and cooling. Thor looks to see the balcony door open, soft winds curling inside, bringing a taste of Asgard with it. He slowly walks towards it until he sees Loki. The man is faced towards the outside, hands behind his back, hair giving shape to gentle breezes.

At first, he contemplates on just leaving, giving Loki his space. He seemed lost in thought, or deeply thinking about something. Thor did not want to intrude on private thoughts, so he turns.

But then he hears a sniff. Or a sob.

One you would make when crying.

The reaction is immediate, he is off the balls of his feet. “Loki?” Thor turns around quickly, he walks with wide steps, out onto the balcony.

Loki freezes upon hearing his name, bringing his fingers to his face, presumably to wipe his eyes. It is too late, Thor is already outside, stepping in front of Loki, stomach twisting.

His heart seems to hurt a little more than it did earlier.

Loki looks up at him, his eyes wide and red. There are tiny droplets of tears on his eyelashes, his cheeks have dried trails along them. His lower lip quivers just a little, his eyebrows tense upon seeing Thor. It was obvious the man had just finished crying for a long time, his skin flushed and he was slightly trembling. He seemed so sad, the look did him no justice.

Thor has a hand on the man’s neck before he can stop himself, his fingers soothing the nape of it. Loki does not flinch, he slowly leans back into the touch. Thor brings the other hand to wipe away a trail of tears that slides down Loki’s cheek. He runs his hand through the side of Loki’s hair, feeling the coldness from the wind in it.

“T-Thor I-”

“Loki, what is wrong? Why do you cry?” His voice is unsteady and it surprises himself. “Who has hurt you? I shall teach them not to dare look your way again. I shall show them the wrath of Thor-“

“You lug, shut up and listen to me!” Loki places his hands on Thor’s chest, trying to push him away. Thor barely moves against the man’s touch. He slips away, stepping back to fix the disheveled hair. He averts eye contact.

Thor tries not to feel hurt from the lost of contact. “Tell me then. Why is it that you are crying? Are you hur-”

“No one has hurt me you idiot. I was crying because of something that happened earlier, and I wish to say nothing more of the matter. It is none of your business.” Thor is stunned, feeling hurt. Loki seems to see the pain in his face so he says quietly, “If you want to know, ask Frigga, but I do not want to repeat the event.”

Thor feels curiosity bubble inside of him. What had made Loki cry? He wanted to know so bad, he wanted to know what made the man hurt to the point he was crying. Loki didn’t deserve any more grief for the rest of his life.

“Are you okay, then?” He chooses not to ask why again, which would most likely enrage Loki.

Loki clears his throat with a cough. “I am fine. Why is it you’re in my room?”

The words feel cold against Thor’s ears. It feels like they haven’t made any progess at all. Why was Loki acting as he was on the first day they met? Cold? Disconnected? 

“I..” Thor looks down, not knowing what to say. He was not usually lost for words, Loki seemed to have that effect on him.

Loki steps forward with a sigh. He reaches up and tentatively brushes his hand against Thor’s cheek. The touch is cold, his fingers taste of the spring breeze. The action is obviously hesitant, as his fingers tremble slightly. It is then does Thor realize that Loki has never touched a man like this in his life. He has never reached out to anyone, he has never touched anyone purposely. He has only been touched. Thor looks up into Loki’s eyes, feeling the green drown his breathing. There are a million things in the kalaidescope of greens and greys, and Thor cannot understand a single one.

“You ruin me..” He whispers, and it is barely louder than the dancing air. The words hit him square in the gut, twisting his stomach.

“Was I the one that made you shed tears, Loki?” He says, never wanted Loki to let go again. Never wanting to see another tear fall from his eyes again. The thought of hurting Loki felt like a sword through his ribs.

There is the smallest of grins. But his eyes are so griefridden. It is raining inside those green forests. “You are foolish, my king. Do you wish to hurt me?”

“I have told you already Loki, I would never.”

“Then why do you constantly blame yourself for hurting me? You are the only one who hasn’t hurt me, my king. You are the only one who has healed me.” He leans in, his warmth consumes Thor, and its like he’s ever felt warmth like this before.

There is a gentle kiss on his neck, and it sends a shockwave down the column of Thor’s spine.

Then suddenly, the man tenses. Loki lets go quickly, his eyes wide and scared. His skin pales, eyes not meeting Thor’s.

This was also the first time Loki had ever kissed another.

“I-I’m sorry.”

Thor is quick to step back in front of him, taking his hand and placing it on Thor’s chest, guiding it to his heart.

“Loki. Why do you fear me?” He whispers.

The man snaps his head up, eyes trembling under the weight of Thor’s words.

“Why do you fear me when I only want to help?” He can’t control the words, better to spill them through loose lips then carry them heavy in his chest. He may scare Loki away, he may overstep boundaries, but the question if so potent in his head, it must be answered.

His heart beats, maybe Loki can feel it.

“Because you make me feel alive.” He says, voice broken like he is ashamed.

The answer stabs Thor right in the chest, blinding pain.

Can Loki feel his heart beat?

“Because I am a broken man but your hands make me feel whole. Because I am a garden of bones but your warmth gives me life. Because I am an undeserving man but you give until you are empty. Because I was not worth saving but you saved me anyways. Because I am dead inside but you make me feel alive.”

He is in tears again, they run down his cheeks like rivers and Thor hates that he made Loki cry. He wants to look away, because his heart wavers.

He pulls Loki into his chest, arms wrapped so tightly around that his racing heartbeat shall soak Loki, so tightly his breaths will mingle with Loki’s. He swallows, not knowing what to say.

Can he hear his heart beat?

Loki was afraid because he is only used to pain and agony. He is afraid of Thor because he has never felt love or compassion. The world is so twisted in Loki’s eyes, everything is so broken and Thor hates that his is so whole. It was unfair.

It was unfair.

Thor sits them down in a chair, Loki on his lap, face hidden in his chest. Loki sobs into his shirt, fingers clenching Thor’s chest. Thor kisses the top of his head, kisses it again. Hand roaming through the raven black hair, arm clutching him close. Trying to tell him it’s okay.

“Don’t be afraid.”

Can he hear his heart beat?

“Don’t be afraid.”

Can he?

Maybe it will drown out the sobs.

Just maybe.

* * *

“Can’t sleep?”

Thor breaks away from his thoughts. Loki was in bed, he fell asleep in Thor’s arms. He had to carry the man to his bed, and tucked him in. That was hours ago. He sits on the ledge of the window outside the throne room. One foot in the castle, one foot hanging outside. The gentle breeze soothes the confusion in himself.

“Mother.”

Frigga is in her night gown, her eyes are knowing and deep.

“You always sat here when you were younger. Always when you were troubled or sad. Sometimes when your father was inside the throne room and you wanted to eavesdrop. I did not know you still do it.”

Thor smiles.

“The breeze calms me.”

“And what upsets you?” She walks up to him, her fingers carding through his hair. She grabs a few strangs and begins to braid them.

“Nothing, mother.”

She slaps him lightly on the head.

“Ouch!”

“You know better than to lie to your mother.” She resumes the braiding, gentle tugs on his scalp.

He lets out a sigh, not knowing what to say or where to start. How to tell his mother of things he barely understood.

The questions are adamant. Loud.

He wanted to help Loki, but how do you help someone who is broken into such small pieces. How do you help someone who is afraid of you? Why does this man fear you? Why does this man make you feel this way? Why  this man make your heart beat so fast? You have just met him but his name is already written in her skull.

“He’s a beautiful boy.” His mother says, like she can read his mind under the moonlight. “Pure heart. He is a scarred boy, only witness the dark things in life. He has skin tough like steel, his head is darkened with thoughts put there by other men. Drilled there by other men. He is convinced his bones belong to other people, there is no part of him that he claims. But still he has a pure heart.

She continues, “I see great things in him. I begin to love him as my own child from only weeks of knowing him. He is hungry for care and love, yet he does not know how to ask for it, how to accept it.”

Thor swallows, both his dry throat and the words his mother speak.

“Today, he cried in my arms, Thor. And I could tell that those were the first tears that came from his heart. He told me he has never been loved before, never. No one has cared for him. No one but you and I.”

“M-me?”

Frigga chuckles. “Yes, you. He cried in my arms and my heart wept along for him. In that moment, I swore to protect him and love him. Your father would probably nag at me for taking in a random stray and loving so easily. But I also know if he were here, and he saw how much you care for this boy, he would not doubt mine nor your actions.”

“How do I fix him, mother?” Thor says quietly. Maybe that was the question he was trying to answer.

Frigga ties the braid off and walks in front of him. Her eyes are calm, but her lips smile.

“Oh my son.” Her hands cradle his face. “There is nothing to fix. How can you fix something that’s not broken?”

His eyes widen, as well as his mind.

“Loki isn’t broken ..” He says. The words louder in his head than under his tongue.

“No, Thor, he is not.”

He was trying to fix something that was already whole. Loki wasn’t broken. He is beautiful in every way he is now. Thor has been trying to figure out ways to glue Loki together when he should be figuring out ways to tell him he’s already compelte.

“I see you understand. Approach him like he is a person, and not like he is broken glass. Maybe then will he accept you.”

Thor stands, grinning at his mother, head feeling clearer than it has in a long time.

“Thank you mother.”

“You need not thank me, I was just pointing you in the right direction. You figured it out on your own.”

What if I grow to love him?

He wants to ask.

But maybe, he is afraid of the answer.

 

 

 


	9. Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying something new. Fandral POV, hopefully it isn't too bad. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Here, more BrOTP feels ~

Lately, the bad days seemed to outweigh the good ones for his king, Fandral noticed this quite easily. Restless nights, perched on the window outside the throne room. It happens quite often, and each time it does, Fandral is there to watch him, make sure he is okay. Fandral sits outside at the bottom of the castle, staring up at his king, awaiting the possible event of him falling asleep and falling outside the window. But he was more watching his king just because he was worried.

His king would sit there for hours, staring off into the sky, or at the ocean, trying to find answers where answers did not exist. He sits there and Fandral feels like he’s being crushed by the weight of Thor’s sadness. He wished he could help, he wished nothing more. What good is the king’s hand if he can’t help the king?

His friend was most obviously trying to understand a situation that had so many depths to it. There was nothing Fandral could do, and it pained him to see his king like that. He knows Thor is thinking of Loki, or of something related to him. It is obvious in his eyes and posture, the shift of his chest when he sighs.

Sometimes, Fandral wants to hate Loki. Hate him for making his king restless at night and fatigued in the morning. For making his king place a fake smile on his lips, when the real one was so bright. For making his king sad, drowing in his thoughts where Fandral could not save him. For putting him in a place where even Fandral could not reach.

But then he sees the way Thor brightens when in presence of Loki. And then Fandral can’t bring himself to hate him. Because Loki also makes Thor the happiest he has ever been in a long time.

And maybe he has never been that happy. Not in that sense.

It’s breath taking, really, to see Thor like that, when Loki is around. It’s like seeing him smile for the first time. His eyes may have been the color of glaciers, but they feel so warm now. And his smiles are no longer bright, they are blinding. And his laugh is so golden there may be songs written about it. When he is happy, it is truly beauiful.

It is difficult to weigh the moments of perfect happiness against the hours of restless sadness. So very difficult. Because Fandral would trade a thousand of his days for a moment of his king’s joy. But he would also trade a thousand of his years to take the hours of his king’s torment. Hours of watching his king trapped in his thoughts are easily forgotten, however, when Thor smiles in Loki’s presence.

Difficult was stating it mildly.

But it isn’t so hard when you see it for yourself. When it is a bad day, Fandral wants nothing more than to take the stars and hand them to his king. On the good days, Fandral wants nothing more than to steal the moon so that the day never ends.

It was easy to tell when it was a good or bad day.

And today .. today was a bad day.

* * *

Fandral never liked the cells. He hated being down here, actually. He liked the absence of steel and cages, those were too barbaric for his tastes. The magic barriers were better, but still, Fandral didn’t enjoy being down here.

On a regular day, he would avoid this place, coming down only if absolutely necessary. On a regular day, he despised this place, because the worst of people were located here, and Fandral was a man of justice. On a regular day, he hated this place.

Today, he hated it a thousand times more.

The guard in front of him greets him with a nod of the head. He doesn’t look Fandral in the eye. Maybe he can feel his anger? The guard holds a piece of paper, fingers gently curled around it.

It is offered, and Fandral takes it.

It was a single piece of paper, but it felt so direly heavy in his fingers, and he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to hold it. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep it so clean and whole in his hands, when it was so dirty and evil. He wanted to crush the paper, grind it into dust, it felt so weighted in his palm, like an anchor waiting to drop.

He was suppose to read it. But he didn’t want to. He would rather read the entire royal library then glance at the few letters on this paper.

How could a few inches of paper with dots of ink on them be so powerful?

There is a grimace. A clearing of his throat. A preparation for a storm he knows will soon uprise.

Fandral doesn’t know what he expects. He knows what he wants to see. But he doesn’t know what to expect. He wants it to be blank, clear of ink arranged in letters of malice. Of course this isn’t a fairytale and that will unlikely be true.

He reads it.

And he reads it again.

And again.

And again.

He reads it a dozen times, each word like a knife writing on his skull.

There were nine names on the paper.

Nine names.

Suddenly, Fandral would rather take on an entire army than know those nine names. It is foolish.

These were the people who hurt Loki. Abused Loki. Torured. _Dehumanized_. These were the nine .. names who were guilty. Guilty of raping Loki. Guilty of using him. Guilty of breaking him and thinking gold could fix him. Guilty of thinking gold was going to reconnect his bones, recolor his purple skin, stitch up his ripped flesh, replenish his spilled blood, heal his shattered soul. These men were guilty of so much more than rape.  So much more guilty than abuse.

The moment he reads the names, counts the names, there is an unforgettable burn inside of him. Like a hundred volcanos rupture his veins, leaving anger behind. He has never felt so angry in his life, never has he wanted to rip the skin off of another man. Never has he wanted to break every single bone in another man. Never has he wanted to see another man punished a thousand times over.

Nine names.

How could a person see someone, see someone cold and hurt, see someone in need, see someone struggling ... and abuse them? How could someone take advantage of a hurt person, use him like a toy, use him like he wasn’t even a person? And then tell other people about it? Recruit other people?

The mere thought was unfathomable, Odin help him, he would rather be deaf than hear those words, be blind than see those names.

How he wishes those nine names were zero instead.

* * *

The day gets worse because Thor is smiling. And it’s one of those smiles that belong amongst the galaxies. There are crinkles under his eyes and Fandral wants them written down in history. He looks at Loki in ways that are hard to describe.

Like he can look at Loki for the rest of his life and be complete. Like he expects Loki not to be there, or is afraid one day he might not be. Like he sees the moon and stars in his milky way skin.

He is in the sparring room, Thor holding a sword, swinging it side to side. It is a rare sight to see. Loki is by his side, watching him. Thor seems to be trying to impress the man, Loki tries to not look moved, but his eyes can’t part from Thor’s skin. His king stumbles and looks like an idiot, but is smiling at Loki’s flush and Fandral would stand here and watch his king smile all day if he could.

Thor is like a sun, radiant and golden. Loki is like a moon, pure and haunting. They revolve around each other in a beautiful way.

He knocks on the wood beside him, not wanting to end such a rare occasion. The two men, sun and moon, turn to him at the same time. Fandral kneels, treating Loki as royalty. He does so mainly because Thor has ordered everyone to, but also because it teases Loki.

“Fandral, brother!” Thor walks up to him, pulling him up. “I have told you time and time again not to kneel to me.”

He smiles. Loki brought out the best of Thor. “And time and time again I never listen.”

The familiar words wash over him, but soon, the matter at hand brings him back. Thor sees his frown and immediately reflects the emotion. “What is it?”

“If I could speak to you in private, my king.”

Loki gives him a neutral look. He rises gracefully from the bench and makes his exit, however is stopped by Thor.

“No. I do not want to speak of Loki behind his back.”

Fandral bites his tongue, surprised at his king’s effort to build trust, but also fearful of Loki’s reaction.

“It is fine, Thor.” Loki says.

“No, he is right. You should stay. It concerns you.” Loki only thinks for a second before moving towards them, standing beside Thor.

Fandral swallows, trying to knit together words that do not belong together in any combination. Loki was beginning to recover from his incidents, he was healing so well. He opened up more, albeit only to Thor, Frigga, Himself, and Sif, but still, that is four more than he did in the past. He spoke more, even smiled more. He still wasn’t fully comfortable around anyone besides Thor, but attempted his best to seem approachable. Loki was strong. So strong.

He hates to be a person to threaten that.

“I have just received word that all nine have been incarcerated. They are in custody in the cells.” Loki visibly tenses, his eyes fluttering before darting to the ground. Thor notices and stands closer to the man.

Fandral can see the rage beginning to color Thor’s eyes. His fist clenches and unclenches at his side. His demeanor is calm besides these things.

“I wish to see them.”

Fandral nods.

He looks to Loki. Thor will not prevent Loki from seeing these men. Fandral knows it. He will not stop Loki from coming along, because he has vowed to treat him as an equal. He has vowed freedom to a man who has never been free. He has vowed to give him a choice because he has never had one before.

Thor turns his head to look at Loki and Fandral pains for the both of them. “You do not have to go.” Fandral hears _‘Please do not go.’_

“You say that knowing very well that it means nothing.” Loki says.

Fandral steps aside and the two, sun and moon, walk towards the cells.

Oh how he wishes it was a good day.

* * *

Loki says nothing.

Nothing at all.

He has the liberty to scream until his lungs wither, he has the liberty to curse and smite, he has the liberty to release all the rage that his body has seen.

But he doesnt not.

The entire time, Sif and Thor interrogate each prisoner. Loki stands outside the barrier next to Fandral. He watches. He stares at every man. He does not waver. He does not cower in front of the men who have defiled his body in ways he cannot forget even when his bones are ash. He doesn’t cry, knowing that every scar on his body has come from the fingers of these men. He doesn’t shiver in front of the men who have written their names on his body in the medium of blood.

These man have forced themselves into Loki, ripping him and breaking him and hurting him. They have made his life hell, made him feel less than dirt.

Yet Loki doesn’t even speak.

And it scares Fandral more than anything.

“Are you okay?” Fandral asks, fearful that the silence may drive him insane. He does not look at Loki, he looks at where Loki looks. At the man in the cell they were currently at. He has done the same to each cell. Stared at the man until Thor and Sif exit. He says nothing to them either, he doesn’t even look at Thor. The king wants to say things, Fandral knows, but he doesn’t, he looks at Loki with a broken heart.

“No.” He says quietly, words come out his mouth but the emotion remains inside his chest.

“Will you be?”

The silence is long.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to go back? You don’t have to see this.”

“No.” He replies, never once do his eyes change. They remain cold and frozen, the green almost grey. The blank stare is so frightenening.

“Why?” Fandral asks after a while.

“Why what?”

“Why are you not angry? Furious?”

“They took that away from me, too.” The words are cold.

Is there anything left? He wants to ask.

It seems there isn’t enough strength in him to ask.

Thor and Sif come out of the last cell, their faces are heavy with mixed emotions. This is difficult for the both of them, Fandral knows it. These are his friends, he knows them too well. Sif carries herself well, her emotions hidden, but Fandral can see the quiver in her pink lips, the grip in her fist.

Thor frowns darkly, and Fandral wishes for the smile he had just seen hours ago. He is angry. His arms  flexed, muscles moving uncomfortably. His fingers grab a phantom Mjolnir, teeth are clenched. Thor wishes for nothing more than to rain thunder down and fight out his anger. He does not show it before Loki.

“Let’s go. I can’t stand to spend another second down here with these pathetic excuses for men.” Sif says.

Loki clears his throat. “I wish to speak to them. Just for a minute each.”

Thor steps forward, arm reached out towards Loki. The raven haired man looks at him and smiles. “I want to do it on my own, my king.” Loki takes Thor’s hand and squeezes it. Thor looks resigned, he swallows words he wishes he could say. But he would never refuse Loki of anything. So he steps back.

“Fandral will stay with me. I will find you when I am done.”

Thor’s eyes are worried, but he nods. He leans in to place a kiss on Loki’s forehead before turning and leaving with Sif.

Loki does not speak to Fandral before going into the barrier.

* * *

It happens as Loki says. Only a minute for each man.

Fandral reluctantly stands outside the barrier, his fingers fidgeting around the sheath of his saber. Loki refused to let him inside, however agrees to stand right next to the barrier.

He can’t hear what Loki says, he can only observe. Each time, Loki stands straight and tall, his hand pull a piece of paper out of his pocket. He reads it to each man.

The results are unexpected.

Fandral sees horror on each man. All nine of them. They don’t even move, they don’t try and talk back. They don’t laugh or smile or show any positive signs upon seeing Loki. Each of them pale in the face, eyes wide, one of them even trembles.

Fandral does not doubt that Loki remembers each and every single one of these men. He doesn’t doubt that Loki has their voices memorized, the feel of their skin, the brutality of their actions. He doesn’t doubt that Loki remembers what each and every one of them has done to him. Those are things you can never forget, and Fandral wishes he could steal those memories from Loki.

By the time Loki finishes reading, each man is resigned, scared .. guilty.

Regretful, even.

In sixty seconds, Loki has made them regret their lives. Their actions.

It’s scary.

When he leaves the cell of the final man, Loki says nothing. He continues to say nothing until they both are in an isolated location. When they get to Loki’s room, the man almost collapses onto the floor. He trembles. Fandral is already pulling him into his arms before the first tear drops.

He cries silently, in Fandral’s embrace.

No sobs, just trembling.

And Fandral hates to think that this is another thing that has been taken away from Loki.

Was there really anything left?

* * *

In one day, Fandral has hated a piece of paper twice.

It was Loki’s letter. The one he read to each cell mate.

He gave it to Fandral, after the crying.

Said that he did not wish for Thor to read it, as it would only hurt him, as he would only blame himself. Said that he did not want Thor to know he cried, because Thor hates when he cries. Those men have taken almost everything away from Loki, but the man still gives.

Then, Fandral knows that Loki loves Thor.

The letter is on plain paper, written in beautiful penmanship. Fandral recognizes that it resembles Frigga’s.

It takes him a few seconds to try and read it, fearing the worst.

He reads it.

But this time he can’t read it a dozen times.

He can’t even read it twice.

Because he is in tears.

“I still feel dirty. I still feel you inside me, I feel your fingers grab my skin like it belongs to you. I feel your lips devour my flesh, your saliva mixing with my blood. I wake up screaming because the phantoms of your touch never stop breaking me. It never stops haunting me. I waste hours in the bath, trying to forget what it feels like to be used. I scrub my skin until it bleeds raw and still you are there. I still feel dirty. I fear that you are deep in my bones and I will never be able to reach it. You did this to me. And you will rot away in this cell for the next thousand years. Until your ashes have become ashes again, until your dust has become dust again. You will scream and go insane from the silence, you will beg to be let go, you will feel your life being shaved away. Every day I hope you hear my screams. Every day I hope you feel my blood under your fingernails. Every day for the next thousand to come, I hope you can never close your eyes without seeing my broken body. One day you will finally go crazy. One day you will hope to die. But you will never feel the pain I feel. But your pain, there is no coming back from. I hope you have fun rotting to the sound of my screams. You have taken everything away from me.”

 

 

 

 


	10. Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! Just letting you guys know I start university in a few days, so my posts will slow down. I will try to update every week, but not every 3-5 days like I do now. 
> 
> To make up for it .. FEELS. Yay feels

Thor was angry, of course he was. How could he not be? There were nine men below his castle, each have taken a part of Loki away. Each have violated Loki in ways that cannot be undone. The anger is a constant whisper in his ear, a constant reminder. It only fuels his determination, brings him to try and stay by Loki’s side.

Loki is not broken. He lets that reminder overpower the whisper in his head.

The night of the interrogation, Loki knocked on his doors. He entered and Thor almost wished he hadn’t. His eyes were glistening like dewdrops on a morning day. His face was flushed and Thor knew that he just finished crying. He said nothing of it, clearly Loki did not want to speak of it. He also doesn’t ask what Loki said to those men, Loki would tell him if he wanted to.

“How do you feel?”

Loki stares out of the glass window. Thor often found Loki looking at Asgard from the castle. He could see the reflections of it’s beauty in his eyes. Loki would run his eyes over everything. The buildings, the waters, the trees. But never the mountains.

“Like I can’t breathe.”

And how Thor wished he could help Loki with that. He would scale the clouds and steal air for Loki. He would learn to be so gentle that he could bend the air. He would kiss Loki and give the air that was in his own lungs. If he could.

If only he could.

“Loki.”

The raven haired man looks at him, his eyes empty.

“Will you come with me?”

“Where will you take me?”

“Somewhere you belong.” It was cryptic, yes, but Loki would soon figure it out.

Loki gives him a look Thor recognizes as something he gave no one else. It was a look of trust.

Thor took him to the highest tower in the castle. As they traveled through the hallways, shoulder barely touching shoulder, Thor takes a risk and brushes the back of his hand against Loki’s. The other man doesn’t say anything, but his fingers twitch just slightly. Thor reaches out and grabs his hand, smoothing his finger across the back of Loki’s hand. It only takes other man a second before closing his hands as well. Loki did not seem to resist the contact, he held on tight, warmth seeping into Thor’s skin. It was all he could ask for – trust. Trust that Thor would not take Loki somewhere he wouldn’t like. Trust that Thor would never plan to hurt Loki in any way possible. Trust that Thor utterly cared for Loki, that he could make things better. It is almost impossible for Loki to provide Thor with this, he is well aware. He understands how difficult it must be for Loki to give the only thing he had left.

But the raven haired man does it anyways, giving Thor trust, something that was so rare.

Loki’s hand against his was like a wine he could never drink but still got him so intoxicated. They fit well together, and he loved that Loki did not pull away. He loved that this felt right.

The moment he opens the door, and they step out, Loki is already speechless. His eyes bleed a thousand emotions as they walk to the ledge. He doesn’t speak, but his surprise is loud between the two. He doesn’t let go of Thor’s hand either, it tightens ever so slightly. His thumb carresses Thor, rubbing circles absently.

Something so small, something so big.

The air is gentle, smooth like satin across their skins. The sky is clear, and you can see the braids of the galaxies entwined above their heads. You can see the stars scattered across the sky, each like a jewel encrusted in the sea of space. The sky is so clear and you feel like you can reach up and gather a constellation.

“It’s beautiful.”

Thor hums in agreement before looking at Loki. The man was so stunning under the lights, his eyes pure and crystal, riveting from the reflections. His hair sways softly in the breeze, smooth and dark. He looked at ease, for the first time, he looked completely at ease.

The sky was beautiful, yes, but Loki was so much more than that. His skin rivaled the smoothness of any light. His eyes were deeper than any pocket of space. His eyelashes were brighter than any star. There was no moon more haunting than Loki, no sun as warm as Loki. It is a shame the man does not know this about himself. It is a shame he cannot see this for himself.

The sky is to Loki, as Loki is to Thor.

An analogy only he would understand.

He would never trade this for anything else. Here, as Loki bathes in the beauty of the stars, Thor can witness the creation of a perfect universe.

“And now?”

Loki looks at him, lips curled upwards. “What?”

“How do you feel?”

“I want to breathe in the stars.”

_And I, you._

“Wish I could just grab one.”

_Stars do not fall for men, but I have fallen for you._

“Never leave my side.” He whispers.

Loki looks at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He grins.

_You, me, and the stars._

* * *

It was his first time setting foot in the private royal gardens as a king. Not because he hated nature or anything of the sort. But because he could never bring himself to do it.

The garden was where he and his father would spend much time together. It was a place where memories could only be memories. A place where memories could only be remembered, and not revisited. A place where he grew, alongside the other plants around him.

His mother would spend hours out here after his father’s death, but never did she wear a frown. She always smiled, encased by the grace of an eternal spring, surrounded by flowers. He would see her through the glass and think that there was no flower as great as her. She was a flower, but at the same time she was a sun, giving warmth and care to the plants, so that they grew strong and lovely.

There are so many colors here, so much life and so much beauty. In the center, is a tall, mighty tree that stands proudly. Surrounding it are various gardens of various flowers, each having their own color and beauty. There are so many different flowers that Thor can’t even count them all. Overhead, there are hanging gardens, luscious foliage draping down from the sky. It’s all so breathtaking and Thor can’t help but think that Loki belongs amongst this beauty.

He finds the man settled against the side of the tree, in his hands a leatherbound book. Rays of light filter through the leaves, curtaining gently over Loki’s features. He looked peaceful there, like there was not a single thought haunting him.

Thor hoped that that was true.

“Thor.” He looks up at the call of his name. “You have been staring at me for quite some time now. I assure you I noticed your presence a long time ago, and that that bush is three times smaller than you. Now, I am saving you from further embarassment. Come out.”

He stands up, feeling the blush in his cheeks. He wasn’t staring.

He came out here to see Loki. But he caught a glimpse and forgot his purpose.

He was observing.

That was different from staring.

“I was, admiring the flowers.”

“Uhuh, yes, I believe you my king.” He says, not looking up from his book.

“What are you reading?” Thor walks over to him, sitting against the tree beside Loki.

“Something you wouldn’t understand.” Thor scoffs before looking over Loki’s shoulder. The man moves his face slightly to the side for the invading blonde. Sure enough, the book is in a language Thor has never seen before, let alone understand.

He frowns and leans back against the tree.

“How do you even understand that?”

“Your mother taught me.” Loki closes the book, and turns his head to look at Thor. It seems he doesn’t expect Thor to be so close. He blushes slightly, looking away. “Is there a particular reason you are here?”

“I have completed my duties and wanted to be in your presence. Can I not do so?”

“I see. You may do as you please. You are king afterall.”

“Do you want me here?”

“It is better than being alone.”

And Thor would take that.

Thor sits in the silence, enjoying the company of Loki. It was sufficient to make him comfortable. They share this silence for some good time, Loki doesn’t open his book. He just watches the flowers, the way they sway in the wind. Thor watches Loki, keeps him in the corner of his eyes. Place Thor in the same room as the most beautiful thing and Loki, and he will appreciate the latter.

“Thor.” Loki whispers.

“What is it Loki?”

“If I asked to leave. Would you let me go?”

He tenses. His heart stops entirely, and then crashes against his ribs.

Leave?

The word sends him into a subtle panic.

Things change quickly, his mind trying to understand. A slur of questions speed through his head in a pace he can’t comprehend.

Why did he feel this way? Why was Loki suddenly asking if he could leave? Had he done something wrong?

“Leave? Loki, have I upset you in any way?” He gets off the tree, facing Loki who continues to watch the flowers. It pains him to see the man approach this nonchalantly.

“The question, Thor. Would you?”

Loki owed Thor nothing. He knew that. He would never pin Loki down for saving him, caring for him. Loki had his own rights to leave. He was better now, the men who hurt him were all imprisoned. There was apparently nothing keeping him here.

“I would let you go, yes. But I wouldn’t want to.” He says, feeling his tongue betray him.

Loki grew on him like a habit. Quick, addictive, and nearly impossible to quit. He blossomed and drove roots deep inside of Thor, growing in places impossible not to feel. It happened fast and unnoticed. His pale skin that retained sunlight. His smooth and silky fingers. His green bleeding eyes. They all grew on him. His name was attached to each breath, his face to each thought.

Thinking of Loki leaving now, he doesn’t know how to feel. Disappointed?

“Why do you want me here?” He murmurs and Thor wishes he could tear his eyes away from Loki.

How was he suppose to answer? What was the right answer? What would make Loki stay?

“Because you make me better.” The answer surprises Loki, who severs his attention from the flowers and draws it to Thor. “And now I can not imagine the gardens without seeing you among the flowers.”

_How you’re so beautiful._

“It is easier to breathe when you are nearby, you make it easier to think.”

_You put air into my lungs._

“You make my days easier, I have something to look forward too.”

_You never leave my mind._

Loki stares at him and he feels so exposed.

“When will you tire?” He says, eyes cold.

“Tire?”

“Of me.”

And then Thor gets it. He was afraid of being abandoned. Just like he had over and over and over again. By his own parents. By every man who has touched him. He has been left behind time and time again, and he expects it to happen this time as well. He was asking to leave .. before Thor could leave him.

It was sick, the way Loki’s mind was made to work. And Thor hates that he grew up thinking this way. Thinking that everyone will leave you eventually, that there is no holding on to anything.

“I won’t.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

_Because it’s hard to picture a day without you. Because I have grown attached far too quick._

He doesn’t reply because he doesn’t know how to. Not in the way he wants to answer. Because he would just scare Loki off. What was he supposed to say?

“My parents abandoned me, and so shall you, my king.”

“Don’t.”

Loki looks away.

“Don’t leave, Loki.”

The man stands and Thor is quick to follow. Was he leaving now? _Right now?_

“Where will you go?!”

“Somewhere.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Loki stops. His back to Thor. “Because if you leave, I won’t be able to handle it.”

“Who says I am leaving Loki? I am staying right here, and I am telling you that I want you here with me.”

“I can’t.”

“And why can’t you!?” His voice was raised, he’s aware of it. But the man of his life was threatening to go. What else was he suppose to do? “What words must I utter to make you stay? And what about me? You think I will be able to handle your absence?”

_I can’t save you if you don’t let me._

_Please let me._

“Tell me why. Why you care so much.”

Was it still impossible for Loki to see it? To understand that he deserved to be loved? That he was as much a person than anyone else? That here, under this roof, in Thor’s arms, he is the safest he will ever be? That he wasn’t trash, that he wouldn’t be used here?

“I made a mistake, Loki. In thinking you were broken. In thinking that you were in need of fixing. But that was wrong of me. I was wrong. You are not broken. You do not need fixing. You are complete in ways I wish that I was. You are already whole. You just cannot see it for yourself. I care because nothing has felt so right in my life.”

His breathing is labored, but still silent. His heart is pounding so hard against weak ribs.

_Let me save you._

_Please let me save you._

“Loki. Do not go. Do not leave me. Stay by my side.”

Silence.

It’s heavy and sharp at the same time, slicing at his chest every time it heaves with oxygen. How does he make Loki believe him? How do you tell someone they are beautiful in every way without it sounding like a lie? Everything Loki has ever heard has been a lie, he only expects to hear them now. How, then, was Thor suppose to make him believe it?

“My mother. She told me .. you cannot fix something that is not broken.”

Loki turns around and Thor is surprised that there are no tears curtained on his eyelashes. He looks so tired.

“Everything that touches me leaves me in the end.” He says.

“The only thing that will make me leave is if you ask me too.I promise this upon my life. ” Because he would never deny Loki anything. Things have been taken from him his whole life. He has never been free, he has never had his own air to breathe, his own skin to touch, his own bones to feel. He has never had a choice and has given until empty. Thor would never deny Loki anything.

Loki walks towards him, step by step. They’re slow and the sky was bleeding. Like Loki’s skin has stolen all of the sunlight. Thor stays still, waiting, waiting as Loki approaches him.

Thor holds his breath until they share the same space, his forehead touching Loki’s.

“You will stay by my side?”

_If you ask for it Loki, if you ask for it, I will give._

_If you need me to bring you the moon, I will give it to you._

_If you want me to carry the ocean for you to cross, I will._

_If you want to breathe, I will give you air._

_If you want, I will give._

“Yes. I will stay by you. As long as you never leave me.”

His word ghost over Thor’s lips and they melt him.

“Then, never.”

And then Thor grabs him, his arms wrapping tightly around Loki, the man’s head seeking shelter under Thor’s neck. They hug and Thor realizes he cannot give Loki the moon, because it is already melted into his porcelain skin. And he cannot carry the ocean because it is already sunken in Loki’s eyes. And he cannot give him air because all the air in his lungs are already in Loki’s.

But whatever else, he shall give.

If Loki lets him, he will save.

If Loki lets him, he will love.

* * *

He leaves ten of the most beautiful flowers he can find in Loki’s room.

Maybe, this will be enough for now.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Leaves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for being late! My internet has been out since Friday! I will be posting today and at the end of the week to resume my schedule. Thanks!
> 
> I understand AO3 is having some technical difficulties? The chapter update may or may not show up for some of you, I'm not sure how you will be able to read it if you aren't subscribed to the story or whatever, because it won't show up in the 'recently updated' section. I'm sorry I have no control over that :(

The flowers are unexpected.

Ten white roses.

Eleven leaves.

Dozens of petals.

They are soft and simple to break. The thorns, sharp and uncut.

Loki runs one petal between his finger and thumb, feeling it smooth between his satin bones. Loki spent a lot of his time staring at them in the gardens, apparently Thor had noticed.

Thor notices everything, it seems. He sees everything when it comes to Loki.

Thor notices the desire in Loki’s fingers when they want to taste his palms. Thor notices the disparity in Loki’s voice, how urgently it need’s his reassurance. Thor notices the coldness of Loki’s flesh, how it needs to be layered in his warmth. Thor notices the hollowness of Loki’s eyes, how they long to _feel_ beautiful rather than _see_ beautiful.

Loki felt like a rose, being watched by a man who previously only stepped on flowers in the battlefield. He felt like a flower being handled by fingers that are only used to crushing bones. He felt like a flower, being touched by someone who was trained to have tough hands.

He was beautiful in Thor’s eyes, even when he felt so disgusting in his own skin.

Loki places the flowers in a tall glass vase, noticing how not a single petal is damaged. There are no wrinkles or creases, each as smooth as water, pure as fresh snow. Thor must’ve taken his time picking these, finding the ones that were perfectly grown. They were carefully chosen. He wonders if Thor handles Loki the same way.

_‘You cannot fix something that is not broken.’_

His words echo like thunder echoes lightning.

Was that how Thor saw him? Something not broken? The only thing Loki can think is: how could it be possible? How is it possible for him to be anything but broken? How can he not be broken when he cannot even take a full breath without having the need to gasp for air? When he cannot run a finger across his skin without meeting a scar that ached with no cause? When he cannot reach into his own mind without coming out with bloodied hands from broken thoughts? If he wasn’t broken, then what was he?

_‘Who says I am leaving Loki? I am staying right here, and I am telling you that I want you here with me.’_

Not many things remained constant in Loki’s life. Nothing stayed for him, no one stayed by him. Even the snow melted away eventually. Even the winter got tired and slumbered. Even the moon must die before the sun can breathe. Was Thor saying he was greater than these things? That his skin and his bones would become ash before they parted from Loki?

It tasted sweet on his lips, the thought of that.

Sweet and impossible.

_‘Never.’_

There was so much finality in that word. Like Thor was sure of something he could never be sure of. He would never tire of Loki, for reasons Loki could never fathom. Even Loki was tired of Loki. One day, Thor would tire too.

But will that be before or after the ash?

* * *

“His majesty bears a message.”

Loki rolls his eye, turning his attention away from a book of the stars. “And why does ‘his majesty’ not just deliver it himself?”

Fandral grins at him.

“Well I’m not sure, would you like me to deliver your message about the delivery of his message?”

He groans because there is nothing more infuriating than Fandral. Who smiles with melted gold in between his teeth. Who never shows his sadness. Who has a perpetual facade on. Sometimes Loki can never tell apart the real and fake happiness.

Fandral was an unreadable person.

Infuriatingly so.

“Just tell me what he said.” He says, glancing over at the vase of flowers.

Fandral stands up straight and speaks in his best impression of Thor. He scrunches his eyebrows low and flexes his chest muscles. His voice deepens significantly and his fingers hold an imaginary mjolnir.

 “Ask Loki why he is not by my side when he said that he would stay there? Why does he not stand beside me at this very moment?“

He rolls his eyes. “I did not mean literally-“

Fandral continues. “If he says he did not mean it literally, tell him: If you are not here literally, then how will I know you will still be there when I look for you? How will I know you are still here for me?”

“That is ridiculous I can’t just-“

The blonde holds up a finger. “If he denies, tell him I just wish to see his face, then. Just to be sure he is still there.”

Fandral returns to his previous stance and gives a curtsy. “How did I do?”

Loki grimaces, feeling blush on his cheeks. “Terrible. You sounded nothing like Thor.”

He feigns surprise. “Ugh! Why is it the messenger always get shot!”

Loki gives him an empty stare. Fandral smiles wide before continuing. “SO! What will be your reply? Shall I tell the king you do not wish to see him?”

“No!” He says sharply before Fandral can leave. The last time he refused Thor, the man nearly broke his doors and started hugging him and touching him and kissing his forehead and-

He sighs. “I will see him.”

“Splendid.” Fandral opens the door for him and they both exit. Loki leaves the room with Fandral right beside him. His smile mischievous. The two guards follow loosely behind them.

“So ..” Fandral mewls.

“What is it Fandral.” Loki growls, trying to ignore the buzzing pillar of happiness next to him.

“Where did you get the flowers?”

“Why?”

“Because you kept staring at them like they’d disappear with the wind.” He shoots the blonde a glare. He definitely was not doing that. Flowers were flowers.

“They are from Thor.”

“ _Oh_.”Is all Fandral says. And it’s in a voice Loki has never heard. And it is strange to only hear silence after he speaks.

“Oh, what?”

“Nothing.” Fandral says, pursing his lips.

“What. Is. It. Fandral.”

“It’s just that Thor doesn’t pick flowers for just _anybody.”_ He says.

“And do tell me who he _does_ picks flowers for.”

They approach the door but Loki stands in front of it, letting curiosity get the better of himself. The guards nod at them but do not open the door.

Fandral leans in, mouth right next to his ear.

“The ones he really likes.”

He feels his face flush even further.

“W-what?”

“Looks like someone has a little crush on you!”

“Fan-“

Before he can argue, Fandral dashes to knock once the door before swinging them open. And then he lightly shoves Loki forward before backing out.

“You two have fun now.” He teases, lips curling.

Then he is gone.

* * *

Thor isn’t on his throne, instead, he is out on the royal balcony, a large platform connected to the throne room. As Loki steps out, he can feel cold air swallow him.

Thor stands against the ledge, his cape bending against the chilly breeze. The fleeting light slips on Thor’s form perfectly, his skin shining like gold under the light. The shadows on his flesh coil perfectly, curtaining toned and sculpted muscles. His long, golden hair wavers softly in the whisper of wind, almost like waves.

Loki spends only a few seconds etching this exact picture in his head. Memorizing the field of Thor’s skin, how is stretches over tough muscle, memorizing the way he wears the sunlight perfectly. Memorizing every dip and curve of his body, how he fits his skin better than the stars fit the sky. Loki didn’t need any sun to keep him warm, not when Thor was here.

He purposely clicks his shoes against the ledge as he walks. Thor turns to him, revealing those blue, blue eyes. Loki can see the ocean in the background, but they can never compare to the hurricane of Thor’s irises. He was everything you’d see in a natural disaster, only a thousand times more beautiful.

_You ruin me._

“Loki.” He says, lips curling dangerously around white teeth. He smiles and for a second Loki forgets that there is even a sun at all.

“Thor,” he replies. Because he can never get tired of those syllables slipping off his tongue. And because he can never say what he truly wants too.

“Join me.” Thor turns back around, his hands resting on the ledge, face towards Asgard.

Loki stands next to him, a few steps closer than he normally would be comfortable with. The wind curls against him, lathering him with coldness. He feels Thor absently shift closer, warmth radiating through clothes. The taste of Thor’s warmth was different than anything he ever felt. Like it could melt any ice but never burn.

“Thank you.” Loki says, unaware of the thoughts that occupy Thor’s mind at the moment.

“What for?” He says, looking at him, those blue eyes branding and burning.

“The roses.” Loki turns to see Thor blush at the base of his neck. Suddenly, he wants to feel his lips against the reddened skin. “They were beautiful.”

_Am I beautiful to you?_

“It is nothing. I saw you looking at them.” They speak in awkward sentences, but Loki doesn’t mind. Hearing Thor sound so .. unmasked was pleasant. His voice was soft, almost like the breeze.

“And whatever I look at, you will give to me?” Loki asks, letting the words roll against closed teeth.

“I will get you anything you desire.” He says, looking away from Loki’s gaze.

_Am I that important to you?_

“Anything?”

Thor smiles, and it is the private one he shows only for Loki. Loki has watched him smile time and time again. But none of them compare to the one he saves for Loki.

It is something he can finally have for himself.

“Anything.” Thor says.

_And if I want the man beside me? The man crafted from gold and thunder? Can you give me something you aren’t willing to give up?_

He shivers, partly from Thor’s words, partly from the fleeting warmth. The sky was slowly bleeding black, soon, the moon would be out. Soon, the stars will shine.

 Something else, he and Thor share.

The man moves so that he is directly behind him, his warmth like shards of summer, embedding into Loki’s back. He pulls off his cape, draping it on Loki’s shoulders.

“You are cold.” Loki shivers, this time because of Thor’s whispers, how they spill down his spine. His breath is so close to the back of his neck, so close to the beat of his heart. “Do you wish to go inside?”

Loki knows whatever he says, Thor will follow him, for reasons Loki wishes he knew. How far would Thor go for him?

“No. Can we stay a little longer? For the stars?”

_So they can see how much I have fallen for you?_

_A man crafted from gold and thunder. A man who gives until he is empty. A man who values honor and justice like they are water and air. A man who loves things that are no longer beautiful anymore. A man who softens his grip when touching flowers. A man who gives me stars and roses, knowing that I am not good enough for these things. He sees me and smiles, and I never thought that would be possible._

_I am disaster, but he sees beauty._

_I am ruins, but he sees sanctuary._

_I am ashes, but he sees skeleton._

_I am broken, but he sees whole._

_Tell me, how am I suppose to love someone who treats me like that? How do I love a man when I am empty on the inside? What if he peels back my scars and finds nothing? What if I unlock my broken bones and he finds nothing? What if he kisses my skin and tastes the signatures of other men?_

_I am empty, but he sees full._

_Tell me, how do I love someone like that?_

“Yes, of course. Whatever you like. Just for a little while, it is cold. I do not want you to become ill.”And Loki knows Thor will stand here until the sun breathes again if Loki asks for it.

Loki tips his body backwards, so that they collide,so that he feels the wall of hard muscle behind him, how he knows it will catch him if he ever decides to fall.

Strong arms wind around his waist and for once Loki doesn’t feel dirty from another man’s touch. He feels pure and clean and it feels so unreal. Tears threaten to pour out his eyes, because Thor was holding him where men have only bruised him.

He leans into the warmth,Thor’s fingers hold his hipbones like they are a glass of wine he is afraid to spill. His face is next to Loki’s, his lips grazing the top of Loki’s ear.

_You ruin me. In the best of ways._

“Loki.” Thor says.

“Yes, my king?”He replies.

“Do you fear me?”

“Not anymore.”

* * *

They watch the stars bleed for a few minutes before Thor refuses to let him sit in the cold anymore. It isn’t nearly enough time to connect the stars with your eyes. Nor is it enough time to bask in the warmth of Thor’s arms.

He leaves anyways, because Thor never asks for much.

“When it isn’t colder.” Thor says, like he is entirely apologetic for making Loki come inside. In reality, he much rather be wherever Thor stands. May it be under the stars, or inside castle walls.

“Okay.” He replies. Then Thor cradles his chin with calloused fingers, lifting them so that he can drown in blue blue eyes. The man looks like he is guilty for stealing from Loki, little does he know Loki would give his flesh and bones if Thor ever asked for it. And he wishes he could give more, but men have hallowed him out, he has little left.

They compromise, Thor lets him sit in his room by the windows, so he can watch the way the moonlight ricochets off the waters of Asgard. He curls up,Thor’s cape still wrapped around him. The man leaves him there, and disappears to bathe.

When he comes back, Loki wonders if Thor is surprised that he stayed. He knows Thor is watching him, it is something he does now, like he is afraid Loki will vanish one day. However he is not the snow he was born onto. He is not the snow he has grown up on. He will not melt if Thor wants him here.

He does not turn to look at Thor, he speaks.

“Thor?”

“Yes, Loki?” The man shifts around, Loki looks over at him.

“The piece of cloth. The one I wrapped around your fist.” He says. And Thor walks over to him, dressed in his night clothes. His hair is still damp, a dark ash color.

Surprisingly the man nods, reaching into his pocket.

He pulls it out and handles it with gentle fingers.

“You still have it?”

“It uh was given to me by you. I dared not to throw it away. Plus it reminds me to handle my temper.” Thor gives one of those goofy grins and Loki can feel his heart flutter. Thor glances at the fabric in his hands .. and then back at Loki, his eyebrows furrowing.

Thor steps up to him, holding up the fabric next to the cape draped on Loki’s body.

They are the same.

“Loki .. where did you get this?”

Loki takes the cloth and holds it against the cape, it blends. Thor washed out the blood. Holding the piece of torn fabric brought back memories. Some of which Loki didn't like to remember.

“A man. Saved me from freezing to death one night. He carried me from the snow and sheltered me. Before I could thank him, he left, leaving only the cape and a coat.” He stares off into the mountains. The coat was quickly stolen from him in the following days. And the cape was almost lost as well, but he fought for it. In the end he was only left with a corner of the red cape. He kept the cloth with him ever since, it kept an ounce of hope in him.

Seeing it again, feeling it against his fingers like he did so many times before, it is comforting.

“Loki.” The mans has this incredulous look on his face, and it makes Loki uneasy.

“What? Why do you look like that?”

The man looks hurt. A thousand things flurry through his eyes, with each passing thought he seems to weaken. “I .. that ..” And then he falls to his knees right next to Loki, eyes emptying of warmth, face paling. Loki  quickly turns and has the man’s face in his hands then, balancing them on the equator of his palms.

“Thor. Why are you acting like this?”

The blonde looks up at him, his eyes apologetic. Broken, maybe.

“That man. That was me. The cape is mine.”

“ _What_?”

“I found you .. and just left .. and then – then you .. you got hurt. I could’ve stopped it. I could’v-“  He kneels right in front of Thor, his knees in between the man’s thigh. He pulls him into an embrace,Thor’s pained expression buried deep in his chest. One hand on his back, one running through damp blonde hair.

_No._

“No, Thor.” He whispers. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for that.”

_You couldn’t have known._

“I could’ve stopped it.” He repeats and the words feel like steel in his heart.

“You didn’t know, Thor, you didn’t know.”

_Don’t hurt for me._

“I just left. Just left you. Why was I so stupid? Why did I just leave you? Why didn’t I save you?” He whispers, and the words slip right through the valley of his ribs, curling against the pain of his heart.

He pulls back so that their eyes meet.

“Look at me Thor.”

_You are too beautiful to hurt for me._

His eyes flutter, tears sheen across his eyelashes.

“I am here, now. I am in your arms, I am whole, just like you said. Feel me.” Loki pulls Thor’s hand and places it on his heart, just as he did before. “You did save me, Thor.”

_I was broken but you saved me anyways._

“You have saved me. I am here now. And I have never felt so alive in my life. I can breathe and I can watch the stars and I can love now. You have saved me more ways than you know.”

He rests his forehead against Thor’s, gentle breathing like ghosts on his skin. Hands find his neck, Thor’s palms rest on his hipbones. Loki decides that this is where he wants them to stay forever.

“I’m sorry, Loki.” He utters.

“You are foolish, my king.”

_Disaster, beauty._

_Ruins, sanctuary._

_Ashes, skeleton._

_Broken, whole._

_Loki, Thor._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if there are any errors!


	12. Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised I'm updating on schedule :) Leave me a comment! Have a good weekend.

When he wakes up, his head is pressed against something warm. The floor is beneath him, hard against his spine. He opens his eyes to see that he is resting on Loki’s lap. Loki is sitting up, back against the wall, his soft fingers carding through Thor’s hair. Green eyes pour down on Thor, they are suffocating and empty at the same time.

“L-Loki?” He shakes away the sleepiness. 

“You fell asleep.” Loki replies, his voice soft. Thor sits up and looks out the window. It is still dark outside. He looks back at Loki and sees that the man is already watching him.

“Why did you not wake me? Why did you let me sleep on you like that.”

“I did not mind.” Loki stands and Thor can see the numbness run in his body. He immediately stands as well, throwing an arm around Loki’s waist. Loki looks up at him and flushes, Thor can see the shimmer of pink across the canvas of his cheek. It is a gorgeous sheen on his pale skin.

He looks back and forth on Thor’s face. “I-I will leave you now. You should go back to sleep.”

The man slips out of his arm and walks his way to the door.

“Loki, wait.” Thor says.

Seeing him walk away, it felt wrong in almost every way.

Something inside Thor screamed to make Loki stay.

To never walk away from him.

The man turns around, his black hair streaming down his shoulders. He stares at Thor, those green eyes reflecting the dim light.

It didn’t feel right. Loki shouldn’t have to sleep alone. Not .. not anymore. Loki had been sleeping alone all of his life, he has been abandoned all of  his life.

That didn’t have to happen.

Not anymore.

“Will you – will you stay?”

Loki blinks, confused. “Do you not intend on going back to sleep?”

Thor looks at the floor, his cheeks hot. It had been a long time since he tried flirting with anyone, and Sif was right, he was terrible at it.

“I do.” He whispers.

He peeks a look at Loki, whose eyes are wide just for a second, his cheeks a deeper color.

“Are you asking me to sleep with you, my king?” The way he asks is suggestive, his tongue curling around a playful voice.

Thor feels his pants tighten just slightly at the inference in Loki’s words. Images flash through his filthy, filthy mind. Images of pale skin under his lips, smooth flesh against his muscles, black hair pulled in his fingers, red lips on his tongue, Loki’s-

He has to mentally stop himself. Loki was in no shape or form deserving of this displaced desire. He was already a victim of so much.

Thor coughs. Loudly.  “N-not like that. I meant – I – I only meant for you to .. never mind. I – uh – good night Loki.” He turns his body quickly before it was too obvious, slipping under the covers of his bed. He stuffs his head into a pillow, wanting the humiliation to smooth away.

He waits for the sound of golden doors to slam shut.

It is quiet for a second.

So, so quiet.

There is the soft patter of feet. He counts each agonizing step.

Step. Step. Step.

Were they getting louder?

Step. Step. Step.

 _Odin_ , they _were_ getting louder.

Step. Step. Step.

 _Breathe_ , Thor, _breathe_.

Step. Step. Step.

They stop. Twelve steps. The doors were not that close.

Where was Loki-

Then the covers are shifted, a dip in the bed. A dip in Thor’s heart. He turns his body over so that he is on his back. He turns his head to see Loki slip right onto his body, like silk against him. His arm placed gently on Thor’s chest, his head tucking perfectly into Thor’s neck. His black hair spills across his pale skin, like river on rock. His lips gently touch Thor’s neck, a breath softly caresses his jugular. Loki fits against him so smoothly, he is warm in so many ways, body sliding against his completely. Thor can feel his arousal spark as he tries to restart his brain.

Loki fits against him like a puzzle piece and Thor can’t help but think that his fingers were made to slide against Loki’s spine, his ribs were bent to fit Loki’s body.

He tenses at the sudden embrace, heart racing and mind unknowing on what to do. His breaths get caught onto frozen lungs. Leaves during a storm.

“I thought you wanted me here?” Loki whispers, his mischievous voice purring against Thor. It sparks wildfires along his veins.

“I – I do.” Loki seemed to like making Thor feel like a fool. A flushing, stuttering fool.

He wraps an arm around Loki’s waist, pulling them close together. He places a kiss on the man’s head and breathes in his existence. Loki tenses just slightly under him, but Thor catches the movement.

It takes Thor only a second to realize exactly who he was with and what he was doing. He needed to show that he could handle this without harming Loki.

“Loki, is this okay?”

“Is what okay?” He whispers, the words pour softly onto Thor’s skin.

“Are .. you okay? With being here with me? I do not wish to make you feel obligated to do anything.”

Loki only scoffs. “You lug. I will not do something I am not comfortable with. You are not forcing me to do anything Thor.” Thor smiles, snuggling closer to the man.

This was okay.

Loki was okay.

He was in Thor’s arms and he wasn’t scared.

Thor lays in silence, soaking up Loki’s comfortable and addictive warmth, wading through thoughts.

“They never did this.” Loki whispers after awhile, breaking the bout of silence. The man was breathing so softly Thor thought he fell asleep. Apparently he was in his own thoughts as well.

“Who?”

“The .. the men who hurt me. They never .. did this. Held me.” His voice gets softer and softer, they fan into Thor’s neck.

Broken words, broken heart.

“Loki..” He pulls closer, not wanting to think about those men. How they touched Loki’s fragile skin. How they hurt and used him. Thor would protect Loki from now on, no one was going to harm him again, no one was going to use his skin like a battlefield. Not anymore. “I am not them. Do not think of them when you are with me. I will protect you, Loki.”

“I am not an invalid, Thor,” he snaps.

“I did not say you were.” He brings a hand to smooth out the river of black hair. “I did not mean to offend.”

Loki scoffs. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” he brings his hand down in a smooth line, stroking Loki’s spine on the way down.

“Stop apologizing for my stupid tongue. I say things I do not mean. I – I am just-“

“It’s okay. I understand.” His hand rests on Loki’s hipbone again, a throne that was sharp and smooth, it fit his hand perfectly. Loki nudges his body into Thor.

Closer.

Closer.

Their heartbeats bruise against each other.

His lips press fully onto Thor’s neck.

Thor lets out a shaky breath as pleasure sings through him.

“D-don’t do that.”

He can practically feel that mischievous smile. “Do what?” Loki lets out a heavy breath onto Thor’s neck, pressing his lip into it. Thor bites back a moan, pulling his weak spot just slightly away from those sinuous lips.

Loki specialized in messing with Thor, he was like the god of mischief.

He laughs, returning to cuddling.

“Sleep, my king.”

And he does, with Loki a warm anchor beside him.

* * *

When the morning light pries his eyelids open, Loki is gone. He feels cold on the inside, and just a little hurt. The covers are still around him, tucked to keep in his warmth. He reaches over to feel the spot where Loki was. It is not warm. He has been gone for a long time.

Thor frowns. Where had Loki gone? He stretches and groans, looking around the room to find that it is empty.

He gets out of bed and leaves the room, pulling on clothes on his way to the door. He walks a few steps until Loki’s room is in sight.

The guards at Loki’s door are there, meaning so was Loki. The guards nod at him as he approaches the room next to his.

“My king.” They say in unison.

“How long has he been in his room?” He asks.

The one on the left looks reluctant to answer. The one on the right looks down and away from Thor’s eyes.

Loki had instructed them not to tell.

_Why?_

Thor frowns. “How long?” He repeats, his voice not changing the slightest. They knew better than to make Thor ask twice.

“A few hours ago, my king.”

He frowns. Loki had left him in the middle of the night? Had Thor been wrong to believe that he wanted to be there with Thor? That he wanted to sleep together, to share the same bed? Was Loki only there to please Thor? The question puzzles him, makes him feel uncomfortable at the thought. The idea of sleeping with someone who did not wish to be there. He hated it. Loki surely owed him nothing, and had no obligation to make him happy. It was wrong.

He knocks on the door once before pushing the doors open.

Loki is in bed, sitting up with a book in his lap. The man looks up at him, his eyes are noticeably tired and slightly pink.

“Thor.” He says softly. It is then does Thor recognize that Loki has looked like this for the past week.

Thor walks up to the foot of the bed getting a closer look. There were rings under his eyes.

Loki ducks his head slightly. “You are awake early today.”

“You were not in bed when I awoke.” Thor replies.

Loki looks down at the book, continuing to read. “I woke up early.” He says.

_Yes, hours early._

“How did you sleep?”

“Fine.”

_Fine?_

“Loki are you sure y-“

Loki coughs. “You. Interrupted my reading, Thor. You will ruin my concentration.”

_Did you even sleep?_

Thor looks away. “I .. see. I am sorry.” He turns away and walks towards the door. For whatever reason Loki was lying to Thor, it seems that he did not want to speak of it. But if he required space, Thor would easily give it to him, even if it did not feel right. Afterall, he’d give Loki anything.

As he approaches the door, there is a ruffle of fabric and quick steps.

The steps echo slightly, causing him to slow down.

A gentle hand finds his shoulder blade. Thor stops in his tracks, he turns his head slightly to see a head of black hair looking downwards.

“Loki?”

He does not answer for a few seconds, hand holding Thor’s shoulder blade like it was too sharp to grip. “Can I. Can I find you later, my king?” Is all he says. Before Thor can turn around, Loki removes his warm hand. His skin whines at the loss of touch.

_Is that what you want, Loki?_

_Are you saying things just to please me?_

“If that is what you want, yes.”

_And only if that is what you want._

_Never more._

_I will never ask for more._

Loki nods and Thor catches the way the rings around his eyes darken his pale complexion. The pink of his scleras rival the depth of his irises. There is something wrong and he wishes to hide it.

_Do not hurt the one thing you wish to heal, Thor._

_Do not damage the one thing that keeps you whole._

* * *

Loki sticks to his words. He does find Thor later that day.

After the last of his meetings there is a knock on the throne doors. The guards slide the doors open and there is Loki, in a different royal attire. It is black with gold accents. He walks in and stops at the steps of the stairs. He kneels, bowing. His knees make a painful sound, even when they gracefully touch the ground.

Thor is immediately on his feet, descending the steps.

“Rise, Loki.” The words are foreign in his mouth. He has never said them before, because Loki has ever kneeled to him before. Never.

Loki looks up at him, the golden walls reflecting in those deep eyes of his. His pink lips part slightly, like he is trying to find words to say. Thor reaches the bottom and places a hand on the side of Loki’s ribs, edging him upwards.

“Why do you kneel?” He asks.

Loki looks away, a plain smile dawning on his lip. “Isn’t that obvious? You are king of Asgard. What more reasoning is required?”

“Loki.” He removes his hand, Loki stands still. “You know you don’t have to kneel before me.”

“Well, it is customary to do so, is it not?” His eyes are dull, lips in a thin line.

“No games, Loki.” He says.

“I only wished to show you my presence like you desired.”

_Like I desired?_

“Loki, I did not mean to force you to do anything. If you do not wish to see me, then you do not have to.” Saying so felt wrong. Of course it did. Thor wanted to spend his entire days with Loki by him, his moon.

But the way Loki says ‘desired’, it feels incorrect. If the man did not want it, then Thor was not going to force anything on him. Loki spent too much time pleasing other men, being forced to meet their ‘desires.’ Thor was not going to be one of those men.

“So you no longer want me here?” His voice is pained, so so pained. It shocks Thor, to hear this voice again.

He places a hand on the side of Loki’s face, feeling the hidden warmth in that snow skin. It is so beautiful, under the snow. No one else bothered to see it, no one else bothered to look. But the most beautiful things lie under the snow.

“Why do you think that? I would have you by my side all day if I could.”

Loki’s eyes widen at this, but just slightly.

Thor frowns. He rubs his thumb further into this snow, fingers curling around the waves of black hair. “Loki, what bothers you?”

He looks down, down at his feet. Only his eyes move, his face remains the same, pale flesh Thor holds in his palms. His smile fades to a frown. “I just thought you were still angry with me.”

“Angry? Why would I be angry with you?”

“I did not please you. Last night. In bed.” He whispers this part, like he is afraid something will happen, like he is afraid Thor will punish him.

It ices his heart over. To hear that Loki thinks he is expected to please someone in bed. To hear that Loki is conditioned to think he will be punished. It is cold and painful inside Thor, in ways a steel blade could never bring. He has swallowed glass.

Broken words, broken heart.

“Loki.. look at me.” His eyelashes flutter, green eyes looking up at him. “I will never make you do anything you do not wish to do. I will never expect you to do anything for me. I will never expect you to please me in any way. I have told you before but I will tell you a million more times; I am not like the other men in your past. I would rather break my own body before I hurt yours.”

Loki’s lips part again, displaced words lost on his tongue.

_What do you want to say?_

“I was wrong. To be upset this morning. But I was not upset because you did not please me in bed. I was upset because I thought I offended you or forced you to be with me. I was worried. Not angry.”

The hand on Loki’s face slides down to his neck, thumb rubbing circles onto the skin there.

Loki opens his mouth again, this time, words escape. “I just thought – I just thought since I did not .. please you .. that you were angry.”

Thor brings his other hand to rest it on the side of Loki's head.“It is my turn to call you foolish, Loki. I was happy that you were beside me, that was all I could ask for. But if you did not wish to be beside me, then I will never force you to do so again.”

Loki jerks, his hands rise and rest gently on Thor’s chest. “No. I wanted. To be with you.”

He imagines how difficult it must be for Loki to admit these things. To give into to some of his own desires for once, to confess something that _he_ wants and not complying to someone else.

How hard it must be, to breathe freely after living with a hand around your throat. To speak willingly after living with someone else's tongue in your mouth. To feel openly after living with bruises numbing your skin.

Thor would never take these freedoms from Loki.

He was not chained.

Not anymore.

* * *

They fall into the same position as the previous night, Loki fitting perfectly into Thor. Thor’s body perfectly holding Loki’s. They were crafted to fit in this way. Heartbeats bruise, warmths mingle. It is addicting.

He falls asleep quick.

But he makes sure to hold Loki in a way that is difficult to fall out of.

So when Loki tries to leave the bed again this night, Thor is awakened.

Loki seems not to anticipate this, but Thor’s finger curl around the throne of Loki’s hip. Loki does not tense, but he is surprised.

“Why do you leave me?” Thor whispers, eyes barely able to make out Loki’s form.

“Thor..” he replies. Thor sits up as well, pushing away the sleepiness.

“Do you not wish to be here next to me?”

“It’s not like that. I already told you that I wanted this.” His voice is detached.

“Then why did you slip away last night? And again tonight?” He tries not to have any hostility in his voice, he tries to remain neutral.

There is a silence.

It stretches out, Thor releases his hand on Loki.

Loki reaches a blind hand and holds Thor’s arm, fingers curling around his muscles. His fingers grip like he is afraid Thor is about to leave.

“I have nightmares.” Loki says quickly, so very quickly, like he is afraid Thor is tired of waiting.

Thor furrows his eyebrows.“Nightmares?”

Loki mumbles, “Yes.”

Thor relocates his hands on Loki's body, sensing that he needed physical comfort. “And you were worried, why?”

His grip lightens. “I did not want to wake you. Or disturb you. Or upset you.”

“Or worry me?” Thor finishes.

Because he would wake every night just to calm Loki’s nightmares.

He lays down, pulling Loki onto him again.

“Never leave my side when you are scared.”

“Thor, I am not a child.” He whispers, silver tongue curling around words he does not wish to say.

He ignores it. Loki does not mean to offend. “I will be here if you have nightmares.”

“Are you sure? They are not pleasant. I scream. And shout.” He says these things like they will deter Thor.

“Loki. You are not alone anymore. I will be here as long as you want me here. I will never leave otherwise. Never ask me if I am sure because I will always be sure.”

_Just like I will always care for you._

_Protect you._

Loki leans up and presses a kiss to Thor’s cheek. He retreats back onto Thor’s collarbone.

He kisses there.

“Thank you.” He says. Like he expected something different.

Mending words, mending heart.

 

 

 


	13. Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with another chapter!
> 
> Just wanted to say thanks to all of my readers and commenters! You guys keep me going. Thanks! 
> 
> Enjoy.

It starts as rustling.

Loki’s body is the home of earthquakes, singing through his limbs.

He fidgets. Twisting and turning like the bed covers are chains.

Then his breathing becomes fast. And slow. Short. Quick. Uneven pulls of air into quivering lungs, they become loud and strained.

By this time Thor is wide awake, sitting up to find that his arms are empty of Loki. Instead he is on the other side of the bed, his skin paler than normal, eyebrows furrowed, lips open. There is a sheen of sweat on his skin.

He whimpers, fingers snow white from clutching the covers. The fabric burns into him, Loki cries.

His back arches, spine off of the bed, his head turning to the side like he is trying to avoid something. He turns it the other way uttering ‘no, stop.’ He bites his lips, whimpers scrawling off of his tongue.

Thor is immediately scooting over to him.

He starts to cry, limbs wrestling a ghost, tears begin to stream out his eyes.

“I’ll do it.” He cries.

Thor feels his heart snap. “Loki, wake up, you are dreaming.”

Rustling becomes fighting when Thor lays a hand on Loki. He starts to jerk and strike Thor, a punch lands right against Thor’s jaw, his other hand sinks into Thor’ arm.

“Loki, please, wake up.”

Loki begins to let out cries of pain, his chest quivering as sobs escape, head whipping side to side.

His body breaks against itself, his mind awakens ghosts. Scars redden, cheeks wet. Thor feels his heart break further.

“Please, I’ll do whatever you want. Please stop.” Hearing these pleas makes Thor’s blood run cold. He places a hand on Loki’s face, where he always does to bring Loki back to him.

_Please come back to me Loki._

The man jerks away, whimpering and shaking. “Please, please stop. I’ll do it, I’ll do it.”

“Loki!” He shakes the man and then Loki opens his eyes, fear so pure and deep in those dark eyes. “Loki, you were dreaming.”

“T-Thor.” Its hard to see his face in the dark, but Thor can see the pain and fear vandalizing his beautiful features. Thor pulls him into his body, into his arms, hands pressing Loki’s face into his neck.

“You were dreaming, Loki.”

Loki tenderly touches him, like he is afraid Thor will disappear or that he is a dream. When his hands curl around Thor’s skin, he starts shaking, and then he sobs softly. It is the most painful thing Thor has ever had to hear. Warm tears seep into Thor’s skin and it reaches deep inside of him.

How can tears be so sharp?

 “Shh shh.” He says, placing kiss after kiss on Loki’s head. “It is okay, I am here.”

_I will keep you safe, Loki._

Thor hates that Loki has waked up like this every night and Thor wasn’t there to hold him. He hates how Loki has hidden this from him, he hates how Loki has dealt with this haunting nightmare alone for so long.

He hates the men who have done this to Loki. He will always hate them, for as long as Loki wakes up screaming. For as long as earthquakes find a home in his bones. For as long as his scars bloom the color of fire across his skin. For as long as he shakes in Thor’s arms, where he should feel safe.

“I’m sorry.” Loki says.

“Why are you apologizing to me?”

Silence.

“Loki?”

“This was what I was afraid of. I should have never fallen asleep.”

“What are you-“

Loki pushes himself away from Thor, disconnect their tides of warmth, Thor’s arms feel so empty without anything in its walls. The man scoots away just slightly, just so that their skin doesn’t melt together.

“You said I wasn’t broken.” He says, eyes looking down at the tangle of fabric pooled around him. “Well then explain this Thor. I cannot even close my eyes without feeling their hands –” Loki inhales a shaky breath and Thor wishes he could just give him the air in his own chest. “I can’t even sleep without waking screaming, feeling them.”

His voice thin but wide enough to consume Thor, small enough to slip into Thor’s chest, thick enough to suffocate him there.

“You hold me like you’re trying to keep all the pieces together. That is how I know I am broken. You do not have to lie to me.”

It is impossible. How insecure Loki is. How blind his eyes are, how empty his heart is. He will never believe that someone loves him, he will never believe that he deserves warmth. Any progress they have made, it is stolen by nightmares and phantoms.

“I have never lied to you.”

Loki whips his head up. “You do! I am broken.”

“Maybe to you Loki! Maybe to you, but to me you are nothing but whole. You may not be able to see it, but I see it every time I look at you.” He says, a little louder, his heart is incapable of swallowing these waves of doubt and pain. Loki is an unrelenting monsoon. The tides live in his pores, the waters sink deep in his ribs. He pushes, Thor falls. He pulls, Thor sinks. There is no escape. “I hold you like that because you think you are broken. I hold you like that because you need to know that you are not broken.”

Loki freezes, his chests heaving.

Push.

Fall.

“Why?” Loki asks.

“Why what?”

“Why do you treat me this way? What am I to you, king of Asgard? Why do you look at my garden of broken bones and see flowers? Why do you touch my frozen skin and feel the sun? I am dead, the snow has long frozen me.”

Thor reaches over. Enough.

Enough was enough.

Loki should not have to bare so much pain. Not when Thor was here. Not when Thor was willing to let his shoulders be thrones for the weight of the world. He will carry what Loki cannot, he will carry everything so Loki does not have to.

Loki has lived with pain for far too long.

Enough was enough.

Loki does not flinch away from his touch. He melts into it. It seems he has no more fight left in him.

Thor pulls him into his chest, hand finding that back of his head, pushing Loki’s face into his chest. This will be his home. These arms will be his home.

_I will be your home._

_When you are lost, I will find you._

“You are so foolish Loki. One day,” he whispers gently, Loki curls his arms around Thor’s waist. “you will see how you really are.”

_How beautiful you really are._

“And what if you leave before I do?” The words are almost lost in Thor’s chest.

“I told you, I will not leave you, not unless you want it.”

Loki tenses.

“But that does not mean I don’t want to be here. I did not save you because I pitied you. I am not staying because I feel sorry. You know of this.” He lays them both down, Loki resting on his chest, the gentle rise and fall carries them both.

Loki speaks after a silence.“You will stay? Even when you’ve seen me like this?”

_Is this what you feared?_

“Yes.”

“Even with the nightmares?”

_Is this why you hid it from me?_

“Yes.”

“ _You_ are the one that is foolish then, my king,” Loki says, the words are cold.

“Insulting your _king_ is treason, I hope you know that.” He runs his fingers through Loki’s hair. Smooth.

“Would you have me punished then?” The man presses his lips just gently across the skin on Thor’s neck. He shudders under Loki’s touch.

“No, but I’ll have Fandral spend his time with you for an entire day.”

Loki scoffs. “I’d rather take the prison, thank you.”

Thor kisses the top of his head.

“Sleep, Loki.”

“I cannot.”

“Sleep. Your nightmares will not deter me.”

It is strange, how Loki fears the effect of his nightmares on Thor more than he fears the effects on himself.

Loki snuggles closer. Trust.

Thor holds Loki in his arms, but not like he is broken. He holds Loki like he is afraid Loki will drift away.

Loki falls asleep on his chest, an infinite monsoon. Tides in his skin, waves in his bone.

He pushes, Thor falls.

He pulls, Thor sinks.

* * *

The nightmares come and go.

On some days, they don’t come. When Thor pulls Loki into his arms at night and wakes up unchanged, he knows there were no nightmares. On these nights Loki is peaceful and undisturbed, not a scream or a whimper ripped off his tongue. When he sleeps soundly, peacefully, Loki exudes pure beauty. The breaths in Thor's lungs still when he sees Loki like this.  This is how Thor knows he is the most beautiful thing Thor has ever seen.

The nights that don’t bare nightmares, they surprise Loki. Maybe because he has never slept a night without them, maybe they are some kind of season for him. Always coming back. When Loki wakes up for the first time without a nightmare, he seems lighter, like there aren’t anchors tied to his ankles. He smiles. And he lays in Thor’s warmth for a little longer in the morning.

These nights are the ones that Thor loved waking up from.

On other nights, however, they do not get so lucky. The nightmares come back on occasion. Sometimes they are the same. Rustling, screaming, whimpering, shouting. When these things happen, Thor is quickly alert and ready. Thor has to wake him, whisper reassurances, hold his trembling body, coax him back to sleep. These are the bearable nights.

Sometimes they are different. Sometimes, the nightmares leave more than just quivering bones and pale skin. Sometimes they leave a hollowed chest and leaking eyes. Sometimes Loki doesn’t even protest or fight, he just breathes sharply and whimpers silently. It takes Thor only once to get used to these type of nightmares.When they happen, Thor has to wake him softly, with his skin pressed against Loki so hard it aches. And Loki sobs liquid bullets into Thor, he sobs and sobs until they leave him empty.

These are the impossible nights.

It turns out enough is never enough.

The men who have hurt Loki are punished.

But they still pain him. They still carve him inside out.

They tear apart Loki in ways that are impossible to see physically. Thor has to look into the very corners of Loki’s green eyes, he has to look past the fake smiles and the brittle laughs. He has to look close in order to see the constant ache in Loki’s body.

It bruises Thor in destructive ways.

It is a terrible feeling. To know that his shoulders aren’t strong enough to hold the weight of Loki’s world. To know that his palms will never be large enough to take the pain in Loki’s heart. To know that his touch will never be warm enough to melt away the ice in his skin.

It bruises in unraveling ways. There is no greater pain. But still, Thor wants to suck up every ounce of hurt in Loki’s body. Because nothing bad belonged there.

And Thor would take it all if he could.

If only he could.

* * *

Thirteen nights.

Thirteen peaceful, quiet nights.

Loki sleeps next to him, a body of moon and stars curled onto Thor. Loki’s breath finds a home on Thor’s neck, it whispers across the skin on top of his artery. Gentle, gentle. It puts Thor to sleep faster than anything.

Thor always has a hand on Loki’s hip, the man says he likes it there, he likes to feel Thor hold him like a treasure, when others have only treated him like trash. They know each other’s weak spots, they hold these spots each night, they hold each other together. Warmth a steel thread linking the two, their hearts beat in tandem.

Thor kisses him on his forehead. Loki kisses him on his neck. This doesn’t change. They do not go further, they do not stray away.

It is their own way of saying ‘I am still here.’

Thirteen nights, they sleep undisturbed.

And then they don’t.

* * *

Thor wakes up in the middle of the night to find Loki by the window, sitting still, staring out to Asgard. His skin sips up the dim light. He has his knees up to his chest, arms loosely wrapped around him. It is quiet.

“Loki?” Thor gets out of bed, rubs his face twice with his palms. He walks over to the window, Loki looks up at him.

His eyes are red, his cheeks have dried tears on them. When Thor sees this he immediately comes to Loki, kneeling in front of him, his hand comes up to cup Loki’s chin. The man looks down at him, there is no pain, there is no agony. There is aching.

“Loki, why did you not wake me?” he whispers.

Loki removes Thor’s hand. “Because I have waken you far too many times now. I am a burden. You should not bother with me.”

“Where does this keep coming from Loki?”

Coldness. Eyes of spring, cold like winter.

_Am I not warm enough for you?_

“What?”

“Why do you keep doubting how much I want you? How much I want to be here with you?” The words are unrestrained. Enough is enough. No more holding back. Thor will say whatever it takes to steel Loki’s doubts.

“You could have anyone you wanted by your side. Anyone in Asgard. But you choose me. Some used body that has been desecrated and tossed.” Loki says these words with a neutral voice, the emptiness terrifies Thor in every way.

“I don’t want just anyone by my side, Loki. I have made my decision, and my decision is you. You are the only person I will see by my side.”

“But-“

“No, Loki. You are not used, you are not a burden, and you are not trash, I will not let you call yourself these things.” Thor takes Loki’s hand and kisses it. He then places it on his own face. “You are important to me, and when you call yourselves these things you will also insult me. You hurt me. Do you wish these things?”

Loki’s eyebrows furrow, the green in his eyes sparks. “No. You know I do not, Thor. Do not make this about you.”

“I am not making anything about me. I want you to see how much I want to be next to you. You push me away when all I want to do is stay beside you.”

”I am a burden! I am nothing!”

“Enough Loki! Enough is enough.” He stands up, pulling Loki up as well. “You are not nothing. I have never felt more complete in my life, I have never felt this joy before. When you stand next to me I can breathe. I can smile. You give me that, Loki. How can you be nothing when you mean everything?”

Loki’s facade breaks. His lower lip quivers and Thor wants to stabilize inbetween his own. Loki looks away from Thor’s eyes.

Thor places both hands on Loki’s hips.

_Come back to me._

“Do you want to be beside me?” Thor asks.

“You know-“

“Do you, or do you not?”

“I do.” Loki says it softly at first. But then he repeats it, louder. “I do.”

“Then what is stopping you? My arms are open to you, my throne is free for you, my bed is empty for you.” _My heart is here for you._

Loki is a monsoon, treacherous tides move under his fingers. Oceans change when he tells them to. Rain falls when he wants them to, waters separate for him. Loki is a storm. Thor will hold him, he is a man crafted of thunder, he will take any rain Loki comes with. He will learn to swim if Loki is an ocean. He will learn to breathe if there is only water. He will learn to drown if Loki cannot breathe.

This will be Loki’s home.

“Thor .. I cannot accept these things you offer me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I do not deserve it.”

“I want to be with you. Do you deny me of this? Am I not good enough for you?”

“You are too good for me, Thor, I have been trying to say this.”

“Loki, do you want me?”

The question is different, but it means the same.

Loki opens his mouth, but Thor can see the hesitation in the way his eyelashes curl upwards.

“Yes or no. Do not think about it.”

“Yes.” He says.

“Okay, and I want you, Loki. Why can it not just be that simple? Why can you not just trust me?”

“I trust you.”

“Then that is all it will take.”

“Are you sure?” Loki asks, he gives Thor one last chance. One last chance to turn around and leave.  One last chance to give up everything that is Loki.

Little does he know, that everything that is Loki, is also Thor.

“I told you already. I will always be sure.”

And then, Loki falls into Thor’s arms.

He falls and Thor catches him. He pulls Loki’s face up, so that they share the same eye contact. Loki’s lips fall slack, blush marinating his pores. Thor leans forward, slowly. Loki has a chance to turn around as well. Thor will give him this freedom. He will give Loki a way out.

Loki does not pull back. He leans forward.

Thor catches his lips in a chaste kiss. It is soft, and warm. The inside of a rose. Loki’s hands grab Thor’s chest, his body arches into the kiss, Thor runs both of his hands up against Loki’s neck. Lips part and then they kiss again, deeper, warmer. He catches Loki’s lower lip in between his one last time.

They break apart, both of their lungs empty and quivering. Foreheads press together. Loki breathes out, Thor breathes in. They share this.

Loki pushes, Thor falls.

Loki pulls, Thor sinks.

Loki rains, Thor thunders.

 

 

 

 


	14. Strikes

Emptiness.

Loki has lived with it his entire life. It has accumulated like dust on untouched parts inside of him. A paradox in which emptiness has filled him to the brim. The space inbetween his ribs, the void along his joints, the junction of his bones. Every part is drowned with emptiness. He has lived with it and it has proved to be the only constant. The only thing that stays, when everything else disappears. Bruises heal. Snow melts. Suns set.

But the emptiness never leaves.

It is the sun that Loki revolves around. Except that it is cold and unforgiving. Except that it takes life instead of provides it. Except that it bleeds darkness instead of light.

It is draining. Deafening. Cold.

But, it is the only thing Loki knows. It is the only thing that has remained. It is the ground beneath his feet, always there when he falls. It is the air that he breathes, always occupying the space in his lungs.

Emptiness.

* * *

Thor kisses him.

Thor kisses him and it fills him in ways that has never, never happened before. Thor kisses him with warmth translated straight from the sun in his skin. Thor kisses him with lips red like the blood in Loki’s heart, soft like snow, gentle like prairie winds.

Thor kisses him and suddenly breathing is different. Breathing is actual oxygen rushing into the crevasse of his lungs, breathing is actually feeling the blood course through his arteries, breathing is feeling _life_ enter and exit his nostrils. Thor pours  air into him, and the two lungs inside of him suddenly are no longer rusty and small.

Thor kisses him and there becomes a new definition for warmth. Suddenly, Thor is a writer, his letters are touches, his words are movements, his paragraphs are _revolutions_. Thor reaches into Loki’s mind and reshapes his thoughts with two red lips. He creates a new definition for warmth, and Loki has forgotten ever feeling anything remotely termed ‘warm’.

Thor kisses him and the phantoms are gone. The phantom hands that rest around his collar like some invisible necklace. The phantom tongues that scratch against his thighs like some piece of fabric. The phantom lips that whisper ‘good boy’ in his ear like dry rain. The phantom cocks that rip him at the seams like swords and steel. Thor kisses him and these phantoms are gone. There is only Thor.

* * *

Things unhinge inside of Loki.

Emptiness is filled.

The one thing that Loki has lived with his entire life – and it is gone. The ground beneath his feet is no longer there. The emptiness between his joints, his bones, his lungs, his everywhere – it is gone. There is no deafening silence. There is no coldness. There is no drowning.

The emptiness is filled.

The vacancy of his pores, filled with the musk of Thor’s skin.

The voids of his lungs, filled with the moans of Thor’s tongue.

The holes of his chest, filled with the feeling of Thor’s fingers.

The emptiness of his heart, filled with the touch of Thor’s warmth.

The one thing that has stayed is replaced.

It is overwhelming. It feels like stars explode inside of him, emotions and sensations flood like oceans. There is no consistency, there is nothing stable anymore. The very thing he has revolved around disappears. He is untethered, unchained. He floats, there is nothing holding him still. The ground is crumbled. There are planets inside of his bones that have nothing to orbit around. There is nothing to guide him, nothing to keep him stable, nothing to keep him sane.

There is nothing to revolve around.

Nothing but Thor.

* * *

“Loki.”

“My queen.” He raises off of the courtyard bench.

Frigga smiles at him, her golden brown hair swallows up the light perfectly. She waves off his curtsy and gestures for him to sit. Her eyes are knowing, they only run over Loki once before her lips thin.

“It is strange to find you here.”

Loki looks down at the open book beside him. He has kept his eyes on the same page for hours, not taking in a single letter. His mind was too occupied, too full. Thor had kissed him the previous night and they fell asleep in each other arms. He didn’t have time to process, he could only feel drunk off the touch of Thor’s skin on his, the taste of Thor’s lips on his tongue.

The moment he woke up, his mind was already in disarray.

This new sensation, this new feeling left his senses raw and his mind wide open. He felt so vulnerable and strange. It was all to foreign and new to him. He needed time to process this concept that he has never encountered in his entire life. He needed time to learn how to live with the emptiness .. of emptiness.

He looks back up at Frigga. “I wished to go somewhere Thor could not find me.” There was no need to lie.

“Yes, I know. Thor gave your guards quite the shouting for letting you out of their sights.”

“I did not mean to get them in trouble. I know that they can’t refuse the king anything, so the only was was to slip off without them knowing.”

His guards had treated him with the most of respect. They treated him like an actual human being, albeit Thor’s orders to treat him like royalty. He liked it better that way, made him feel less uncomfortable. They were more friends than they were guards. He didn’t mean to get them in trouble.

“It is all right. Thor can be ill-tempered.”

She angles her position a little, so that she is facing Loki.

“Did you two have an argument?”

He bites his lip.

They didn’t. But he was acting like they had. He was distancing himself, but it wasn’t meant to offend anyone. He just needed time to think, to understand. He needed space.

The only person who has ever graced Loki with warmth and Loki pushes him away.

Sometimes he wished he wasn’t so twisted.

Sometimes he wished that he could be even remotely good enough for Thor. He was such a used asset, he had nothing to offer. He had no benefits, only demons, only ghosts. There is little to nothing left inside of him but still Thor finds ways to put things there. He finds ways to make Loki into a person he is not. He holds Loki and he kisses Loki, and he does it without doubt.

Thor was someone good.

Loki was not.

“No. We did not get into a fight.” He lets out a sigh. Frigga reaches a gentle palm and holds the back of Loki’s hand. Her warmth allows him to continue. “The king and I ..” He coughs. “Thor and I ..”

She grips lightly and releases. “Take your time, Loki. I am not here to interrogate you. I only wish to know why you are so sad. When I said I would take you in as my own under this roof, I meant it. You can tell me what troubles you.”

He nods. He wastes a minute of silence to gather his words. There was no way to say it without making Loki uncomfortable.

“Thor .. has given me something important. Something I do not know how to handle.”

She frowns. The colors in her eyes swirl. “Do you want this .. something?”

_Do I want to breathe?_

_Do I want to feel?_

_Do I want to taste?_

_To get rid of this coldness?_

_To forget the emptiness?_

_To love?_

“Yes.”

“And does he want to give this something to you?”

Loki feels his skin resonate. The places where Thor’s fingers bruised feeling into him, the places where Thor has bled warmth into, the places where Thor has kissed and breathed. The places where Thor has left his signature in the mediums of touch and scent.

Loki feels his heart speed. Thor controls the tides in his heart. He only has to shine the sun in his smile and Loki’s heart dashes. He only has to graze the pads of his fingers and Loki’s heart crashes. The waves that are Loki, they are pliable to Thor. He controls them and he knows that he does.

 Loki feels his lips tingle. Only once has Thor melted his lips against Loki’s and it is impossible to forget. Impossible not to yearn for. It was soft like a snowflake, but lasting like a scar.

Loki’s body and mind react and it is easy to face the truth.

“Yes.”

“Then what scares you?”

Fear.

Something he has never associated with Thor. Because Thor was always so safe. He was a castle surrounding Loki. His arms were barriers, his beating heart was a shield. There is no fear when Thor is around.

It is not the fear of Thor. It is the fear of not being able to please Thor. To make him happy. To love him.

“I am afraid that he will not like the way I handle this. I am afraid I will make a mistake and mess this up. I am afraid I will disappoint him and he will no longer want me beside him.”

Somewhere along those words is a confession.

It seems Frigga understands this.

“Oh child,” she says, bringing him into her arms. “you are afraid that Thor will not love you because you have never been loved.”

It is a shame, how simply Frigga can make him cry. He spent so much time drying the ducts in his eyes, not being able to cry anymore. He spent a lot of time just taking the pain and the assault of other men, there were no tears left in him.

At least he thought.

He stares down at the fabric his head rests on. Spots darken and he hates ruining Frigga’s beautiful dress with his sorry tears.

“I am sorry.”

“Never apologize for something you can not control.” The words seem familiar. He has said them to Thor on countless occasions. It is strange to hear Frigga say them to him. “Love is a special thing, Loki. It is terrible that you have never had the chance to experience it. But now you do. And it seems impossible or frightening even, but love is something special.”

Maybe, Frigga knew what Loki was talking about from the beginning. He is ashamed for attempting to hide it. Did this mean she was okay with her son being with a person like Loki?

“Let me tell you something, Loki.” She pulls him closer. He is larger than her, but still she encompasses him in many ways. “There are no rules to love, there are no guidelines. Everyone is capable of it. There are no rights and there are no wrongs. The fear you have is foolish. Do not think, do not doubt. Feel.” She places her hand on Loki’s heart. “Think of Thor. The way he makes you feel.”

Golden skin. Something that can fill his fingers.

Palace of warmth. Something that can fill his emptiness.

A sun. Something he can revolve around.

Solid. Something that will keep him stable.

Thor. Something he can live by.

Loki looks up at Frigga. He smiles.

She asks him one last question.

“Can you give _him_ this something as well?”

It only takes a second for him to answer.

“Yes.”

* * *

Loki finds Thor in the sparring room.

In only pants, his chest and stomach are bare, a sheen of sweat over his defined muscles. His hair is tied off, his fists wrapped in a cloth. The king swings his arms at a training bag, the strikes are collected and quick. His muscles ripple, shadows collecting into the valleys that they form, his muscular chest and chiseled abdomen leave Loki breathless.

He watches Thor, the way he trains, the way he burns energy and stress.

He wonders what Thor thinks of, what makes his swings so forceful.

After fourteen more strikes, he stops. Slightly labored breaths, his hands still the swinging training bag.

Loki enters the room fully, stopping a few feet from Thor.

Thor hears his feet and turns around. His blue, blue eyes widen upon seeing Loki. He turns his body and Loki feels his face flush entirely upon seeing Thor’s muscular figure up close.

He looks down to avoid Thor’s eyes.

“Loki.”

“Hello my king. Did I interrupt your battle with the training bag?”

“Loki..”

“I know, I know. No games.”

The shuffle of fabric and two long cloths are discarded from Thor’s fists and onto the ground.

“The guards lost you today.” Thor inches a step closer.

He hums. “I needed time to think.”

“Think?” His pained voice makes Loki look back up at Thor. “I apologize if .. if last night ..”

_Was a mistake?_

_Do you think it was?_

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

“Did you not want me too .. I have been thinking of my actions all day, thinking where I went wrong. It just .. felt so right. I didn’t mean to-“

Thor was flustered, it is strange to see the king act in such a way. His eyes hold regret, like he is afraid that last night was going to change them.

In a sense, he is right.

“You did nothing wrong.” Thor looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed, confused. Loki closes the gap between them, burns the bridge that is silence and awkward glances. They are a breath apart, Thor’s sun kissed skin warming the pale of Loki’s flesh.

He has lived his life revolving around something that has given him nothing.

He has lived his life revolving around that has only taken, that has only stolen.

His skin is pale because the emptiness has sucked the life out of him. His lungs are thin because the emptiness has fed him no air. His heart is weak because the emptiness swallows him whole.

He has revolved around something he thought was the sun.

But he was wrong. Because the man in front of him now, the man with summer stitched in his fingers and light melted in his eyes, this man is the true definition of warmth.

Loki places a hand on Thor’s bare chest. It is warm, sweat mixed with a fast heartbeat. Thor watches Loki’s eyes, he watches closely. Loki slides his hands up the firm muscles and Thor intakes a sharp breath.

Up, up.

Up until it grips the space where Thor’s shoulder meets his neck. Fingers, curling around this space. Fingers, sipping up the warmth.

His other hand raises and clasps Thor’s collarbone. Fingers, gently holding him.

He places a kiss against Thor's throat, tongue swiping upwards with his lip.

Thor lets out a shudder, a moan.

He leans back, lifts his chin. Opens his mouth.

Kisses Thor.

There is a moment of surprise before Loki swipes his tongue alongside Thor’s lips, begging for entrance. The man opens his mouth with a groan, tasting Loki’s tongue and lips.

Loki sucks Thor’s bottom lip into his mouth, deepening the kiss. A twist of the head and Thor is moaning into his teeth, his tongue diving into Loki’s mouth. Strong hands wrap around his waist. They lower.

Down, down.

Down until they rest on his butt. Fingers, groping him here, Loki moans into Thor, back arching, cock rubbing against Thor though the fabric. He sucks the man’s tongue into his mouth, letting Thor pull back and ravish his lips again.

Thor pushes him against a wall, lips breaking apart, shallow breaths.

Forehead to forehead.

Loki grinds his hips into Thor, feeling his thick erection burn, getting him a loud moan that melts right into Loki’s chest. Thor kisses him again, lightly running his teeth over Loki’s swollen lip. He breaks apart, forehead to forehead, shaky breaths shared between them.

“Thor..” The name feels so perfect inbetween the slits of his teeth. “My king.”

“Yes?” Thor whispers, hands now gripping Loki’s thin hips. His fingers hold Loki like he is some treasure, and he can almost forget how hands have previously left bruises there. Thor touches him and the pain disappears.

“I do not – I do not know how to give you what you desire.”

_I do not know how to give you me._

“What do you mean, Loki?”

He runs his palms against the muscles of Thor’s chest. Strength. Warmth. How he wants to run his mouth over these places. Taste the musk and the heartbeat.

“I can give you my body.” Thor takes one of his hands and places it over Loki’s.

“I don’t just want your body, Loki. I want everything else, too.”

_As long as you desire it, I will give it to you._

“You are the only man who has touched me and wanted something other than my body. The others-”

Thor leans in and catches Loki’s lips inbetween his. His kisses, hard, pressing his tongue into Loki, twisting his head at the perfect angle.

He pulls away, leaving Loki breathless. “Do not speak of other men when with me.” He says, with a low growl.

“Am I yours now?” Loki asks, staring into those deep blue eyes. He realizes that there are flecks of grey, tiny pieces of diamond dust you’d only be able to see at this proximity. Something only Loki can see. Something Thor will only let Loki see.

“Do you want to be? Mine?”

“ _Yes.”_

There is no hesitation.

There is no fear.

Thor is a castle.

Thor is a shield.

He will protect Loki. There is no fear. Thor will be the ground that will catch Loki whenever he falls. Thor will be the sun that which Loki will revolve around.

The emptiness is gone.

The only constant in Loki’s life and it is gone.

But it no longer scares him. Because Thor is here.

“Then you shall be.” He lowers his head and Loki bares his throat to Thor. Soft lips touch his neck, a kiss. And then Thor’s tongue swipes and lips suck a bruise into him. Loki moans, back arching into Thor. “My bed. My throne. My heart. It is yours.”

The emptiness is gone.

There is only Thor.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....Feels?


	15. Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for my absence last week! I was at a leadership conference at the capital and university has been taking up all of my time! I will be updating on time this week. This chapter is slightly shorter than usual, but not by much.

“Where are you taking me?”

Thor stops walking and looks over his shoulder. Loki watches him, arms crossed impatiently. Ignoring the question,Thor turns around and walks to the man. Loki looks down at his feet when he gets close, but Thor takes his thumb and rubs it against Loki’s chin. He pulls up gently and green eyes look up at him. Thor leans in and places a kiss on his left brow.

It has only been one day since their last kiss but it seems Thor cannot drink enough of Loki’s touch.

“Trust me,” he says, spying a slight blush appear in Loki’s cheek.

Loki nods minutely and Thor takes the smaller man’s hand in his. Loki does not tense under his hand and it only takes a second before he returns the grip. Thor smiles to himself, feeling a foreign warmth settle inside his chest.

It feels good. It feels _unimaginably_ good to know that Loki has accepted him. To know that Loki trusts him to this extent. To know that things have changed, that the darkness that has found home inside Loki’s heart has changed. To know that _Thor_ is the one who has replaced this darkness.

It feels fulfilling.

It feels comfortable.

It feels like _home_.

Loki’s milky way skin that is full of stars and comets. Loki’s moonwashed flesh that always melts away darkness. Loki’s champagne warmth that is languid and intoxicating. Every inch that makes up Loki. It feels like home.

This kingdom is a house, this castle is a house, but Loki .. Loki is a home to him. How long Thor has lived, without a home, how long he has lived, without a place to belong. This kingdom has taught him strength, this castle has taught him duty, but Loki has taught him passion. Learning Loki’s touch has taught him gentleness. Learning the way his heart beats when he is afraid, learning the way his skin flushes when he is angry, learning the way his eyes darken when he is sad. They have taught Thor lessons of compassion.

He has learned how to battle, how to win, how to rule, and how to defend. But dipping his fingers into Loki’s snow skin has taught him so much more. Tasting the roses of Loki’s swollen lips, breathing in the scent of a winter man, it has changed him.

This is home, he is home.

* * *

When they get to the balcony by the throne room, there is an expected confused look on Loki’s face.

Loki turns to him and frowns. “Why are we here? You said you had a surprise. I have to say this is not nearly as a surprise as it was the past twenty times we have been here.”

Thor grins and wraps his arm around Loki’s waist, pulling him in and holding him tight. Loki places both hands on Thor’s chest, pushing him away softly.

“W-what are you doing?” The familiar tinge of pink on an annoyed face makes Thor smile.

Thor pulls Loki back in, so that their bodies are pressed against each other. Loki’s breath hitches when Thor lowers his hand and rests it on the crown of Loki’s butt. He leans forward and lowers his eyelids, staring into Loki, watching the way his skin colors, watching the way his eyelashes shift. Loki’s body does not bend away from Thor, it does not shake anymore. There is no fear in the way Loki acts, there is no fear in his eyes.

He hopes his arms are a home for Loki as well.

The breeze careens into them, tangles itself into the black of Loki’s hair. The lights are dimming, slowly dipping behind nighttime. The air becomes cold, but there is no greater warmth than the warmth stitched in Loki’s skin. The season of spring collides into them with clear air and chilled gusts. It feels surreal, to be able to hold someone and feel all of the seasons at once inside of him. It feels surreal to be able to touch someone and feel the stars in his fingertips. It feels surreal to be able to kiss someone and be able to swallow constellations.

“You will see.” He raises his hand in front of them and opens his palm. Loki watches the fingers in curiosity.

A snap of air and then his hand is filled with the rod of mjiolnir. His grips tightly, watching the way Loki follows every movement of his fingers.

Loki’s eyes widen slightly.

“Wait are you-“

“Hold on.”  Thor whispers and Loki gives him a confused look. He whips the hammer around and soon, they both are flying.

Two arms wrap around Thor’s neck tight, Loki’s face buries against Thor’s throat. Pleasure sings through him alongside the sharp winds that slice by.

“I’m going to kill you Thor!” Loki shouts through the waves of air and clouds.

“That’s treason!” Thor shouts back, smiling as the cold gusts roll off their bodies. The adrenaline of flying and the warmth of Loki intoxicate Thor with excitement. He grips tighter, arm wrapped around Loki’s waist, fingers holding his hipbone.

How long he has lived without this feeling, how long he has live without Loki inside his veins.

How long he has lived without a home.

* * *

When they land, Loki finds the nearest rock and throws it at Thor.

“Loki! Loki –“ He manages to dodge three before another hits him in the arm. “Stop!”

“Do not ever do that again! I swear I will burn all of your little capes!”

Thor grins stepping closer to Loki.

“I mean it! I will hide your crown at the bottom of the ocean!”

He places Mjiolnir down and steps closer.

“And I’ll tell Frigga you have been abusing me!”

He closes the final gap and Loki looks up at him.

“And I’ll – wait, what are you doing. You lug, get away-“

Thor puts his arms around Loki’s waists and leans in, nose to nose.

The shouts die down to a whisper, a mumble. “W-what ..” Eyelashes flutter against his skin, soft, soft. “What are you ..”

Their faces are achingly close, so close the warmth migrates between them.

Thor leans in, slowly, lips opening, breaths shallow. He waits until Loki cranes his neck upwards, waits until Loki leans in for the kiss ..

And then he backs away, smiling wide as Loki stumbles. He moves so that he stands behind Loki and places his chin on Loki’s shoulder, turning their bodies to face forward. Loki turns his neck to look at Thor in confusion. Thor only nods his head forward.

In front of them, the oceans of Asgard.

Silence floods Loki, a quiet gasp in surprise.

Something he has never seen. Whenever this happens, whenever Thor shows Loki something new, he freezes in silence. It is like he is taking the time to learn something he has only heard about, but never dreamed of actually seeing. Usually it is followed by gratituity and warm smiles. Thor grins, feeling the familiar tense of Loki’s body against his. He tightens his hold around Loki’s waist and the man leans back into him.

Thor watches the waves, the teeth of the ocean as it rushes across the rocks. Loud, roaring, rise and crash. Deep blue waters, wide and encompassing. The waves roll and break, constant echoes of each other. The sound is comforting and strong. The waters crash and break against each other, in their waves, the lights in the sky. The waters carry broken pieces of stars and moons without even touching them, they carry galaxies that nothing else can hold.

Rise, fall.

Crash, roar.

They stand there, Loki balanced in Thor’s arms, Thor breathing in the scent of Loki as it mixes with the taste of the sea. Loki’s heartbeat seems to be louder than the rolling waters, it beats in tandem to Thor’s. It seems somehow they have learned to live in sync, as well.

“Loki?” He says, after a while.

“I will forgive you –“ he coughs, “this time, Thor.”

Thor pulls back to turn Loki back around so that they face each other.

“You will forgive me?”

“Just because you have taken me here. But heed my warnings, the next time you ever-“

Thor closes his eyes and leans forward, catching Loki’s lips in his. The smaller man freezes before melting into the kiss. He opens his mouth and Thor takes his lower lip in between his, sucking softly on it.

They turn their heads at a perfect angle and Thor’s tongue is inside of Loki’s mouth. The kiss is a languid, slow battle, tongue sucked in swollen lips, soft moans swallowed by lustful grunts. Thin fingers climb up Thor’s neck, curling themselves into his blonde locks.

Loki grinds into him and he has to grip back a moan before Loki sucks his lower lip between tongue and teeth. A soft bite on Thor’s lip and he moans into Loki’s mouth. He brings his hands down to grope Loki’s butt, feeling his own erection thicken.

Thor breaks apart and plants a trail of moist kisses down Loki’s chin. Down to his throat, he counts them, little by little, inch by inch until he reaches the middle. Loki bares his neck, arching his back inwards as Thor’s sucks little marks. Fifteen kisses and he reaches the bruise from yesterday.

He licks it once and Loki moans are covered by roaring waves of the ocean. Fingers pull Thor’s hair and tug him back upwards. The man kisses him, mouth opening for Thor to enter. Tongue traces Loki’s lips before entering soft whimpers.

They break apart, nose to nose, forehead to forehead. Swollen lips hover over swollen lips. Breathing shallow, fingers gripping tight, eyes lowered in desire. The waves crash and their heartbeats crash louder.

 “Am I allowed to do that?” Thor whispers.

“Only if you are prepared for the outcome, my king.”

Thor looks up at the sky, smiling.

“Watch, my Loki.”

“Watch what?” Loki mimics him and looks up.

Thor lowers his head and kisses the space behind Loki’s ear.

Thor can feel Loki open his mouth to question, but he shushes him.

“Shh, watch.”

Another kiss and he can’t help but be amazed in how right this feels, how simple this is. Kissing Loki where men have previously hurt him, holding Loki in places where men have crippled him. Even more, it is amazing how Loki trusts him to do these things. How Loki lets Thor show him what a kiss really is, what love really is.

Thor leans back and looks up at the sky.

There is a silence before the rain falls.

The water swallows them, slowly, and then all at once. Rivulets run through dry clothes and dry skin. Hair clings together and dewdrops cling to eyelashes. Thor lowers his lids and watches the way the rain blurs Loki into this beautiful creation. He leans forward and tastes the rain on Loki’s tongue, he sucks the mans lips in his, kissing, kissing, kissing.

Loki breaks off and latches his lips onto Thor’s neck, sucking little bruises into his throat. He moans as the warmth of his tongue rivals the cold dewdrops. Loki grinds his hips into Thor’s cock and he brings his lips back onto Loki’s

They break apart again, bridged by gasps of air and rain.

Loki is flooded with silence yet again.

It seems, Loki has not felt rain, either.

It seems, there are many things that Loki has not felt yet.

It seems, there are many things Thor has to show Loki.

 

 

 

 


	16. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> University is absolutely kicking my ass! It's taking up a lot of my time :( Sorry if I post late.
> 
> NOTE: I have changed the rating of this chapter. I *attempt* to write some explicit stuff for the first time. Hopefully it isn't too bad.

The rain ceased eventually, leaving them drenched and cold, kissing like they were some teenagers. Loose kisses drawn on reddened flesh, teeth biting on bared neck, soft gasps and lusty grunts. They touched each other like they were trying to memorize each and every curve. The feeling of eyelashes dusting across sensitive skin, stubble burn scratching against soft cheeks. Every movement, the smallest of actions felt so monumental.

It was different with Loki. Everything was different. Thor had his share of encounters with women. Soft press of breasts, light giggles, floral scents, gentle bodies. He had been with others, but none was like Loki. They had only kissed and Thor had never felt so aroused in his entire life just from that. Loki was so different. Like every touch was magnified, every gasp ran straight through Thor. The grip of fingers in his hair, the grind of hips into his groin, it was all so different.

_Amazing._

The entire time Loki had not pushed him away once, Thor paid attention to the way Loki kissed him.

There was no hesitation, no doubt. Just the feeling of swollen lips brushing against skin, warm tongue swiping across teeth. Warmth bridging them impossibly close. Every kiss Thor planted on Loki, Loki returned with equal passion.

How it feels to know that Thor is the first person Loki has a choice with. That what they have is entirely Loki’s decision. After a lifetime of having no choice, Thor is the person Loki chooses. Thor is the person Loki chooses to kiss. To hold. To taste. To feel.

That alone is deafening.

Loki is less hostile on the flight back to the castle. It seems his weakness is a few kisses on the collarbone, because the man holds tight and doesn’t squirm around in protest. He holds tight, but tight enough to show that he trusted Thor not to drop him. The flight is quiet, winds whipping past them, still air dividing for them.

Everything was so different. So much better.

Thor spent his entire life under the stars.

He never imagined he’d be able to taste them.

* * *

When they get to the castle, the first person they run into is unexpected. Upon opening the throne doors, they face the Admiral of the Asgardian fleet.

Admiral Alrik Ghran. He was appointed by Thor’s father. He was a charismatic, mysterious person, but a powerful Admiral nonetheless. He did his duty and never strayed. There were scandalous rumors spoken of him, but without evidence, Thor ignored these rumors. People called him manipulative and sneaky, but Alrik followed all orders Thor gave him and completed his job, there was nothing else to consider.

Alrik had been sent with a couple of ships from the fleet to quell unrest among the realms. He had been absent from the kingdom for some time, having left a week before Allfather Odin’s death anniversary.

“My king.” Alrik bows slightly, grinning with his crooked smile. He was still wearing his uniform, likely making his way to report to Thor his mission.

“Alrik. You have returned. I assume your mission went well?”

The admiral smiles. “Yes, the realms are at peace once again. Just a few rebellious forces of jotuns, nothing your fleet could not handle.”

“That is fortunate to hear. You serve Asgard well.”

The man lets out a light chuckle. He looks up and sees Loki standing beside Thor. His eyes widen in interest .. and something else, something Thor does not like. His lips curl into a smile. Thor can feel Loki tense beside him, but makes no move to comfort him

“You must be the Loki everyone speaks of. I have not had the pleasure of meeting you. I am the Admiral of the Asgardian Fleet, Alrik Ghran. You can call me Alrik.” The man reaches out a hand towards Loki.

Thor watches Loki reach out as well, but instead of shaking it, Alrik bows and kisses the hand. Thor feels a jolt of possessiveness claw through him. Loki pulls back his hand and Alrik stands up straight, smiling.

Thor stands up straighter, face steeling into a neutral expression.

Alrik seems to understand Thor’s warning, thinning his smile.

“Well, I hope to see more of you, Loki.” He then bows to Thor. “My king.”

Thor nods and waits until the sound of his footsteps disappear.

When the man finally leaves, Thor can feel Loki relax.

He grabs the hand Alrik kissed and holds it, thumb rubbing the spot absently, maybe trying to erase the touch of another man. Loki looks up at him in curiosity.

“Come. We should get you out of those clothes.”

Loki gives him a confused look before looking down at his slightly damp clothes. He nods.

As they walk to the room, Loki says nothing.

“Are you okay?”

Loki shakes his head once. “Yes.”

“Would it please you if I told the Admiral to not touch you?”

“I am fine, Thor. You are being ridiculous.”

Thor grips Loki’s hand a little tighter, his thumb rubbing circles absently. Loki returns the grip but says nothing.

When they get to the room, Thor starts a warm bath, letting it fill the entire tub. He turns to Loki and watches him. The man seems lost in his thoughts, eyes darkened. Thor walks up to him until there is little space between them. He brings up a hand and runs it through the tendrils of damp hair. Loki leans into the touch, closing his eyes.

Their faces are close, breathing each other’s air because they can share this, too. Because Thor is willing to share whatever he has, with the man who has had nothing.

Loki, who has felt the lights inside of himself darken. Loki, who has felt the walls in his bones crumble. Loki ,who has felt the will in his body being taken.

Thor is willing to share, he is willing to give whatever it is Loki needs.

His throne, his castle, his kingdom.

This man, who stands in front of Thor, drenched and warm, he will share the air in his lungs with. This man, who smells of fresh rain water and salty ocean air. Pieces of black hair stuck to his neck, sewn together by drops of rain. Eyes piercing green, deep enough to be an ocean of their own. Tips of his ears slightly pink, cold from the tongue of cold gusts. This man, who is beauty.

“Can I?” Thor asks, placing a gentle hand on Loki’s cloak. His finger rubs against the moist fabric, ready to remove it.

The man widens his eyes in surprise.

On his face, is a shocked expression. His eyebrows knit, his lips thin.

And for a second, Thor has to wonder why these words surprise Loki. But then he understands. He understands that these words are foreign to Loki.

How many men have asked before taking apart his clothes? How many men have ripped apart the threads  just to vandalize and violate?

Too many, is the answer.

A dark anger burns beneath Thor’s heart. To watch Loki’s eyes widen because his ears have never heard this string of words. To watch Loki remember each and every time someone has torn apart his clothes to hurt him. To watch Loki’s lips quiver slightly, because he is trying to convince himself that Thor is Thor. To watch Loki try and fight back .. fight back something inside of him.

He wonders what it is Loki is attempting to swallow. He wonders what darkness, what secrets Loki is keeping from him.

“No.” The reply is deafening. Mainly because Thor does not expect a denial.

He does not show the hurt he feels, instead, he removes his hand from the cloth.

_Do you not trust me, Loki?_

_Do you still believe I am one of them?_

Loki catches his hand with cold palms. “This is not what you assume, my king.”

“I understand,” he says “but I have promised to never hurt you, Loki. I did not lie.”

“No. No, I know you did not lie. It is just ..”

Thor brings his hand down to the place on Loki’s hip. “You do not have to explain anything to me. At least not until you are ready.”

Loki frowns. “This is not what you assume, my king.” He brings Thor’s hand up and places it on his face. The skin is cold and warm at the same time. “I trust you. And I know that you will never harm me.”

Thor furrows his eyebrows, gripping Loki’s hip softly. “Then .. what is it?”

Loki says nothing, just lets out a heavy breath. He leads Thor to the edge of the golden tub, seating him down on it. Then the man steps back a few steps, hands roaming up to grip the cloak.

Slowly, he unravels the cloth. Slowly, pieces of fabric fall to the floor.

His fingers shake just slightly, and it takes Thor a lot of will to not place his hands on top of Loki’s. To tell him that it’s okay. To steady the fear in his bones. But he knows that Loki has something important to say, and that he needs to do it alone. So he watches. Watches the way Loki runs his fingers across the cloth slowly before taking it off, piece by piece.

When he is fully naked, Thor feels his heart crumble.

Across Loki’s skin.

Across his beautiful, beautiful skin .. multiple scars.

_Scars._

Scars left by other men. Other men who have hurt Loki so much that they left behind scars. As if the permanent wounds inside Loki weren't enough. As if the forceful taking of his virginity and body were not enough. As if the broken pieces left behind were not enough. They had to leave physical scars on Loki’s body.

There is a quiet rage that roars inside Thor. It is silent, but torrential, swallowing up his insides. The man he has dedicated himself too, the man he finds salvation in, this man has been scarred. _Marked_.

Thor swallows the rage when he sees the way Loki watches him.

Inside those green eyes .. is fear. Fear of Thor.

“Come. Come here Loki.”

The man walks slowly, step by step until he reaches Thor.

Thor looks up at Loki, looks up at his pale face. He places a gentle kiss in the middle of Loki’s chest. A soft shudder, soft exhalation. He brings his fingers up and traces the scars. Some are long gashes, some short.

He traces each softly, almost hovering, almost haunting over these graves left on Loki’s body. Eventually, his fingers shake as well. Slightly, but they do. They shiver in anger and rage.

He traces a total of sixteen scars. Some on his chest, some on his thighs, some on his back.

“Those men do not make you who you are, Loki,” he says.

Thor stands and takes off his clothing as well, watches the way Loki stares at Thor’s naked body. He takes off each piece slowly, observing the way Loki’s eyes glimmer, brighten in desire. Watches the subtle pink color Loki’s body. He can feel Loki’s eyes trace the curves of his muscles, he flexes them gently.

“Come.” He steps into the bath, warm water swallows his legs.

Loki swallows once before entering as well. Thor sits down into the water, splitting his legs to leave a space for Loki. The other man understands and sits in front of Thor, leaning back.

“Those men do not make you who you are, Loki,” he repeats.

He brings his hands and begins to clean Loki’s body. Warm, beautiful skin beneath his palms. He touches the skin like Loki is a masterpiece he is afraid of ruining. And that is exactly what he is.

Loki turns his head slightly, sliding downwards so his lips have access to Thor’s neck. He shifts his body away so it half faces Thor.

Soft, soft sucking on his throat and Thor lets out a soft moan.

“Loki..” The man leans up and catches Thor’s lips in a kiss. Tongue in his mouth, soft whimpers pushed into his throat, teeth drawn on his lips. The kiss sends heat straight to his groin. The sounds Loki make are arousing, the taste of him on Thor’s tongue, the whimpers placed in his throat.

Thor pulls back, watching Loki’s face pinken. “Loki what are you..?”

“No. They do not make me who I am. Not anymore. Now ..” He brings his hand and places it on Thor’s chest. “Now, you make me who I am, Thor.” Slowly, he slides the hand down. Fire burns under Thor’s skin, burns wherever Loki’s fingers touch. How much power, this man has, over the king of Asgard. A simple touch and Thor is in pieces.

The lips find his neck again and he bites back a groan. The hand dips under the water, passing his abs, passing his naval.

Slowly, slowly.

Slowly, fingers wrap around his thick cock and he moans loudly.

“L-Loki..”

A tug, Loki’s pointer and thumb almost barely wrapping around his entire girth. Another tug and Thor is arching his hips into the grip.

Lips find his mouth again and soon they are kissing fervently, every touch is hypersensitive. Thor sucks Loki’s tongue and he moans. Loki jacks Thor’s cock, twisting his hand when reaches the top. Thor lets out a shameful moan into Loki’s mouth, breaking apart.

He latches his lips onto Loki’s neck and brings his hand down into the water.

Loki moans at the touch.

Thor pants “Can I?”

Loki nods, “Yes, Thor, please.”

That is all he needs before he wraps his hand around Loki’s cock as well. It is hard in his palm, he tugs on it in the same rhythm Loki does. The man thrusts into Thor’s hands and soon they are kissing again. Little shivers of pleasure run through Loki, and this empowers Thor. The thought that he can make Loki writhe in pleasure, that he can make Loki moan and whimper.

Thor takes his other hand and traces Loki’s scars with his palms, feeling the soft ridges under his fingers.

Loki shudders and twists his hand and tugs on Thor’s cock, sending blinding pleasure through him.

He breaks the kiss apart and moans, “Fuck, I am close, Loki.” Loki quickens his rhythm, fingers rubbing into the slit of his cock.

Loki whispers, “Come for me, my king.”

And that is all it takes for him to go over the edge.

Alarming pleasure rushes through him, his muscles tense, he moans and thrusts fervently into Loki’s grip. The thrusts are short and broken by the immense orgasm. Loki tugs the cock a few more times, earning him a moan from Thor.

Thor grips Loki’s cock and soon, Loki mirrors him, he moans and falls onto Thor’s chest, panting in short breaths as pleasure overtakes him.

A soft kiss on top of Loki’s head.

The pleasure takes them both, hearts pounding, breaths short.

Loki’s eyelashes flutter against Thor’s chest, soft, soft.

“You make me who I am, too, Loki.”

A gentle kiss on Thor’s chest.

Maybe to Loki, Thor is a masterpiece he is afraid of ruining too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a scale of 1-10, 1 being 'extremely sexy smut' and 10 being 'wtf did I just read', how bad was that? 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading!


	17. Others

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally back on schedule! :) I just wanted to say thanks to all of my readers and commenters, you guys push me to write more! I feel so loved and motivated when reading all the messages in my inbox, thank you so so much!

Things change after Loki’s night with Thor.

The weight stitched around his ribs, the heavy pull on his bones; it all disappears after that. Like Thor has sucked it right out his scarred skin, like his lips inhaled any doubts inside of him.

Doubts. It is nearly impossible to imagine having them now. Because Thor was exactly who he said he was. He proved himself, he earned his title. He was a man. A king. A god. But more than that, a person. He saw the broken garden of bones that Loki was composed of. He saw a chance to take advantage, and he didn’t take it. He proved that he was not like the other men Loki so unfortunately had experience with. He found someone he could use, but instead he chose to fix. He chose to care.

He said he would not hurt Loki and he kept his word.

Loki asked for shelter and Thor offered his body.

Being there, being in Thor’s arms. Letting Thor touch him, letting his hands wrap around him, giving him things that men have previously stolen.

It changed things inside of Loki.

Almost like a light inside of him was reborn. Almost like the ashes he has worn on his skin were slowly dusting away. Almost like he was rising from a darkness that has always been bottomless.

There is a hope, that he can actually make another person happy. Like he is much more than a good lay, a warm hole. Like he can actually please another person with more than just that. There is hope that he belongs somewhere, that he has found his home, that he has found a place where it never snows and the ‘love’ never hurts. It makes him feel like he can open a part of himself that he once so desperately wanted to keep quiet, keep shut. Thor will love each and every part of him.

The broken parts. ( _Not broken. You are not broken_ , says Thor) The scarred parts. The parts that have shamed him. The parts marked by other men.

Maybe Thor will place his lips over every part of him, over every part where another man has sucked the warmth out of him. Maybe Thor will swipe his tongue like a paintbrush over places other men have darkened with their touch. Maybe Thor will claim him where other men have spilled themselves inside. Maybe Thor will brush soft fingers (always soft, Thor never hurts Loki) over his throat, where other men have gripped with harsh fingers. Maybe Thor will hold him, maybe Thor will love these places.

Maybe Thor will love this body.

* * *

Loki found himself in the same place he always escaped too when he had things to think about: the royal library. It was seldom occupied, mainly only by the librarians and servants. The shelves were tall, towering above, with endless rows of information. The walls had tall windows that allowed a steady flow of sunlight into the room. In the distance, you could see the rainbow bridge and the ocean.

It was peaceful.

Or so Loki hoped.

“A reader, are we?”

Loki startles slightly, dropping the book from the shelf.

He turns to see the man he met yesterday, leaning against the bookshelf, arms crossed.

Clearing his throat, “Admiral Ghran.” He bows his head slightly.

This would be fifth man Loki would have met (excluding guards, they seldom spoke to him) in this castle. He had grown out of his immediate hatred for all men (seeing as Thor, the warriors three, and his doctor were all kind people), but there was something about this man that warranted caution.

“Apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” The man walks closer, steps slow, steady. He leans over and picks up the book, slotting it in the exact spot from where it fell without even looking. There is an earthy scent to him.

Upon closer inspection, Loki gets a much clearer view of his features. Black neck-length hair slicked backwards, silver grey eyes, jaw and cheekbones sharply alike. His build was closely behind Thor’s, his light armor showing a toned body. He had devilish charms. There was a way his eyes looked that exuded a .. powerful feeling. An almost frigid feeling. Silver and grey, almost like steel.

Loki takes a slight step back.

“How may I help you, Admiral Ghran?”

The man grins crookedly, showing off two rows of straight teeth. There is something about his smile, too, it seems. “Please, call me Alrik.”

Loki can tell that this man often got what he desired. Whether it be women, status, or fortune. He bled charisma and charm, he carried himself in confidence, and it was all topped off with his physical features. This man, Alrik, was more than just the Admiral of the Fleet.

Loki turns to the shelf and resumes looking at the labels. Staring at the man made him feel uncomfortable. There was something in his eyes. Something that made Loki feel small.

“Admiral Alrik, then. Did you need something?”

The man chuckles. “You are a stubborn one. I just wished to make your acquaintance. You seem like an interesting man.”

“And how is that? You have only spoken to me one other time.” He reads the back cover of a book on the midgardian moon before returning it to the shelf. Surely, the Admiral did not just stumble into this library. He came searching.

The man follows loosely behind him, keeping some space between the two.

“I have heard whispers of you.”

He opens another book and flips through the pages.

“And what have these whispers said, Admiral?”

The man leans against the shelf next to Loki, crossing his arms. Loki can feel his eyes roam against his body. He can feel his skin being watched by careful eyes. Small shivers crawl up his spine.

“Not much, surprisingly. Little know of who you are. Just that one day his majesty found you and brought you here, giving you royal status.  So tell me, little Snow, who are you?”

Loki’s chest tightens at the nickname. The way he says it gets right under Loki’s skin.

“My name is Loki, Admiral.” He places the book back on the shelf, trying his best to not look at the man.

“Tell me then, _Loki,_ why is it the king took you in? Why has he bothered to treat you so well?”

He spares a glance at the man, who is no longer grinning. The depth in his eyes, however, does not change.

“Admiral-“

The man steps forward and closes the space between them, reaching a calloused hand and holding Loki’s chin. His hand is big, strong, but it holds Loki gently, the roughness of his battling hand is a stark contrast against Loki’s skin. Loki lets out a quiet breath at the sudden contact, staring straight into silver eyes. His fingers tremble slightly. The man looks down on him, narrowing his eyes. His jaw clenches, throat swallowing.

_Who is this man?_

“Are you his new toy? Is that what you are?” His voice is just above a whisper, there is a venomous curl of his tongue, his words sharp.

Loki feels his insides twist, and he hates how this man makes him feel this way. He hates how this man can plant a seed of doubt in him just by speaking some words. He silences the poisonous whispers inside his head, feeling annoyance ripple inside of him. “What madness are you speaking of?”

“The king gets to have whatever he desires, does he not? It has always been this way.” The thumb on his chin makes a circle, and Loki feels his heart speed. “I see why he chose you, Snow. You have no flaws.” That’s when Loki sees a spark of hunger in those silver eyes.

Loki pulls away, stepping back. The Admiral straightens, letting out an almost tired sigh. He lowers his arm and rests it by his side. He tilts his chin up slightly, watching Loki.

“Why are you saying these things?”

“As I said before, you are an interesting man, little Snow." He smiles. "I will see you later this evening, at the victory dinner.” With that, the man turns around and walks away. Before he leaves Loki’s sight, he looks over his shoulder. “And Snow? If you have any questions about your king, feel free to find me.”

A curl of his lips and he is gone.

* * *

“How many people have you gone to bed with?”

Fandral chokes on his drink, coughing up wine at Loki’s question.

They were in the large dining room, tables of food in the middle with open walls letting in fresh air. The massive room was filled with tables of food, a spot in the center for dancing. Fandral turns to him, hand patting his chest fervently.

“W-what?”

Loki watches Fandral set the cup of wine he was 'testing' down. “I am told .. you are a man of many .. talents.”

Fandral lets out a loud sigh, bringing one hand and resting it against his forehead, his other arm holding his elbow. “And who told you this? Was it Natylia? Because I assure you-“

“Fandral.”

The blonde looks up. “Yes, your royalty.”

Loki picks up a fruit and throws it at the man. Fandral catches it and pouts.

“Don’t call me that. And answer the question, Fandral.”

The man looks off into the distance, rubbing the fruit on the sleeve of his shirt. “I have had .. _certain_ relationships with quite a number of people, Loki. I would say I know not the number, but that would make me look lecherous.”

“You already look lecherous, Fandral.”

Fandral leans against the table and takes a bite of the fruit, an audible snap of his teeth. He watches Loki, slowly chewing. He swallows the fruit and asks, “Why do you ask such questions?”

“Is it .. is it normal to have many partners?”

The blonde furrows his eyebrows, placing the fruit down on a platter. “Are you asking me if his majesty has had previous partners?”

Loki looks away, ashamed of whatever it was he was feeling. Whatever it was Ghran had wanted, it seemed to be working.

He nods, slowly.

Fandral bites his lip, eyes off in the distance.

He does not reply until for a few seconds.

“He fooled around plenty before Allfather’s passing. He wasn’t always a king, as you can imagine. He was a young prince once. A man of his libido and looks, he had his share of women.” A pause. Blue eyes watching him. “Never men though.”

Loki looks down, feeling a flush creep up his cheeks. “How many?”

“As I said, he fooled around-“

“Fandral, an estimation.”

“Fine fine!” He puts his hands up in surrender and 'hmms’, eyes darting off into empty space. “Maybe seventeen? Eighteen? Seventeen. One came back. Not many lasted long.” He looks back at Loki and his eyes widen. “B-but that does not mean..“

_Not many lasted long?_

Is this what Ghran wanted him to see?

Would Loki be one of these people as well?

A tally on his list?

_A toy?_

“My king.” Loki looks up at Fandral, who kneels.

He turns to find Thor entering the room, red cape dancing against the wind. His eyes were so blue, so pure. He smiles and it is so beautiful.

“Rise, Fandral.”

Thor turns to him, “Loki.”

“My king.” He bows slightly, swallowing down whatever foolish emotion he was feeling.

Fandral clears his throat. “I was just telling Loki of the-“

“View from the rainbow bridge. He says it is .. breathtaking. Would you take me one day, my king?”

Fandral frowns at the interruption but Loki waves him off. Thor smiles wide, the lines around his eyes bend and Loki feels something inside of him warm.

“Of course. But tonight, it is time to feast! Our fleet has once again returned victorious! Come, let us get dressed.” The man bellows, throwing an arm around Loki, leading him to the bedroom.

Loki follows, letting the warmth of Thor sink into his skin. Letting Thor place a gentle kiss on top of his head. Letting his heart speed under this man of gold and sun.

He can’t help but wonder how many others have felt this way for this man.

He can't help but wonder how many 'lasted' this long.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Alrik as a Henry Cavill. Can you imagine a manipulative and dark Henry Cavill? Ughhh *_*


	18. Jewels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up on more poorly written explicit content.

When Loki enters the room, the first thing he notices is a pair of black boots placed in front of the bed. Sleek and clean with gold straps securing the front. He turns to look at Thor, who is watching him, the blue in his eyes bright with amusement. The man nods forward, his gold hair catching the light as it moves.

Loki steps forward, closing in on the bed. He feels his chest empty of air.

Placed on Thor’s bed – _their bed?_ – was a beautiful, tailored outfit. A leather, black top with gold accents that snake around the collar, the arms, and the chest, shimmering perfectly under the light. Loki lets out a quiet gasp. Eighteen jewels adorned under the collar of the garment, he touches each of them individually. He runs the pad of his fingers over the fabric, it is smooth under Loki’s touch. A black cloak with gold blades of fabric sewn into the shoulders and front flaps. A long, flawless red cape placed beside the attire, it mirrors Thor’s. On one corner of the cape, a small embroidered L.

Strong arms wrap around his waist, pulling him back onto a wall of warmth. Loki leans into the touch feeling Thor’s breath ghost behind his ear.

“Does it please you?” he asks. The purr of his voice delves right into Loki’s skin.

He places a palm against the cape, it is like water against his skin, smooth just like Thor’s cape.

He turns to face Thor. The man has the same look in is eyes, deep and amused. “It is beautiful, my king.” It is barely a whisper, but it is heard. Thor’s fingers roam up to the buttons on his top. Soft eyes stare down at him. His eyes mute, maybe so that Loki does not drown.

“Can I?” He asks, lips flat, eyes watching.

Now, even as Thor possesses every inch of Loki’skin, he still asks if he can touch. If he can feel. The only time Loki has ever given his body willingly to someone, and still Thor asks for permission. These two words wash away any remnants of sins that have buried themselves so carefully in his heart. Whispers of ‘ _you are such a beautiful slut.’ ‘are you ready to be filled?._ They all disappear. Because he has placed his body in Thor’s palm, but still this man thinks he does not own it.

Because he does not think he owns Loki. Because he thinks Loki is the only owner of his own body.

It is perfect, in this way.

Loki smiles thinly, “Always.”

Slowly, pieces of fabric fall to the ground. A soft kiss pressed onto where his neck meets his shoulder. Shudders run through his body. A kiss on his collarbone, even softer. Loki bites back a moan that threatens to sing off his tongue.

Hands remove clothing and lips replace fabric. A tongue swirls around his nipple and the moan slips out of his mouth.

_Own this body, Thor._

Thor is on his knees, and Loki smiles. Only he can make the King of Asgard bend on his knees.

His bottoms fall on the floor and lips find the line of his hipbone.

Fingers fall on Thor’s hair, softly pulling him up

Thor rises and Loki captures his lips in a kiss. Gentle at first, but then Thor presses further, tongue tracing his lips. A hungry kiss. His lip caught between Thor’s upper lip and tongue, a soft moan echoes through the room. Warm hands find his waist, roaming onto his butt, grabbing him in desirous fingers. A twist of the head and Thor’s lips suckle on his tongue, softly, softly. Teeth graze on his mouth, a sloppy kiss on the corner.

His hands start to unravel Thor’s clothing, desperately trying to find the heat of this man’s skin. He latches his lips on the hollow of Thor’s neck, sucking softly, moans empty Thor’s mouth, he arches back.

Clothing falls and Loki licks a line from collar to shoulder, biting softly. Hands trace the ridges of defined muscles, feeling the strength and lust curled tightly in Thor’s flesh. His tongue finds the groove of Thor’s abs, Thor moans, attempting to bite back.

Hips bare, pants pooled around Thor’s ankle.

Loki looks up and sees that Thor is watching him, bright blue eyes a few feet away, but they feel like galaxies away. He kisses Thor's thigh softly, finding his way to the base of Thor's cock. He grips Thor’s length, the thickened member hard in his hand. A tug and Thor can’t hold back the moan. He pumps the cock again, wrist twisting when it reaches the top. Thor leans back against the foot of the bed, hands gripping on either side. Knees buckle and Loki licks a line from base to the head, tongue flicking the slit. A bitter spark on his tastebuds. He suckles the head softly in his mouth, feeling the weight of Thor’s cock on his tongue.

“Loki..” There is hunger in his throat, his skin vibrates with need. It empowers Loki to know that he is the source of this desire, he is the substance that will sate this need. It also empowers him to know that if he wanted to stop at this moment, Thor would not deny.

He sucks the length further into his mouth, hand tugging on the length, fingers wrapping barely around the girth. He bobs his head slowly, teasingly on the cock, fingers pulling softly.

Thor jerks forward, grunting. “Loki, please.”

_Ask and you shall receive, my king._

He bobs his head once, taking the length into his mouth, leaving an inch or two. He begins to suck, swirl his tongue on the under side of Thor’s cock, the taste and warmth fill him. The sound that escapes Thor’s mouth burns wildly inside Loki. He pulls his head back until just the head is on his tongue, looking up at Thor who’s eyes are full of pleasure. He takes the thick cock to the hilt this time, it reaches the back of his throat and he swallows, rewarding him a loud moan from Thor.

Fingers find his hair but they don’t tug, they don’t push.

Thor thrusts in softly, pushing his cock inches deeper. “Loki, I’m going to ..”

Loki takes it down his throat again before Thor moans, pulling out of Loki’s mouth. Hands pull Loki off his knees and on his feet. Thor smiles and leans in for a kiss. They press tightly against one another, skin against skin. Thor's hand wrap around their lengths, earning a moan from Loki’s mouth. His large hand tugs on them both, slicked with precome.

A few tugs and Loki is splayed on Thor's gold skin, panting.

“T-Thor-“

He can’t hold back the rush of pleasure, moaning into Thor’s neck as he spills over Thor’s fingers. The man follows quickly after him, jerking and letting out a sated moan. Ropes of come shoot between them, waves of pleasure, warm bodies, and quiet breaths.

Arms wrap around him, his legs absolutely weakened with pleasure. A soft kiss finds his forehead. Soft pants from Thor’s mouth, his chest rising up and down. Drops of sweat on his skin, flesh flushed pink.

Loki looks up at Thor, seeing that Thor was already watching him, his eyes smooth with pleasure, lips curved upwards.

For the first time in a long time, Loki feels absolutely complete.

There are no broken parts.

“Loki.”

“Yes?”

“The victory feast.”

“I do not wish to go.”

“Then I will not see you wear your new clothing.”

“Would you not prefer me naked?”

A soft chuckle. “I would. But I refuse to let the officers see you this way. This is for my eyes alone.”

Loki smiles. “Okay, my king.”

* * *

A victory feast, as Loki finds out, is just men eating, drinking, and dancing. It is less barbaric than Loki expected, but there seemed to be a mutual sense of joy among the men.

Many eyes fell on him in the beginning, he felt just a bit uncomfortable. It seemed Thor could sense this, as he granted the seat beside him at the table to Loki. After that, he was only watched in the corner of some eyes, when they thought he wasn't paying attention. He paid little attention to them.

After the feast, men and women scattered between the tables, the dance floor, alongside the walls, outside on the balcony. The noise was expected, there was a easily discernible scent of alcohol in the air, everyone was either drunk or on the way there. The scent and sight of drunken men unnerved Loki entirely too much, he found difficulty in staying calm.

It seemed Thor had a joy for drinking mead as he had chugged it competitively with Volstagg. He was drunken in no time, and it seemed that a drunken Thor was a flirtatious Thor. He was shuffling between dance partners, swaying in the center amongst other couples. A different amount of girls threw themselves in their king's arms. Loki watched with subtlety. Thor had not picked out these women, they came to him, and he could not refuse.

But Loki couldn't deny the envy sparking somewhere in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, being envious over someone like this. It was strange and new and annoying. Loki found himself turned away from the dance floor, picking up a goblet of mead.

He downs the content entirely, feeling the warmth settle into his stomach. The alcohol burns down his throat and he smacks his mouth.

"My my, Snow. What has caused such aggressive drinking?"

Loki lets out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes briefly upon hearing this voice. He turns around, fingers gripping around the goblet.

"Admiral."

"We meet again." His grin is crooked, eyes amused. He glances upon Loki's body, eyes taking in the outfit, his eyebrows quirk slightly upon seeing the red cape. "This is.."

"The  _king_  gifted it to me."

"Ahh." His tips his chin forward and nods once. "I see. It looks ravishing on you, Snow."

Loki looks down, biting his lip. "You are too kind, Admiral."

A soft chuckle. "So, you have yet to answer my question. What causes you to drink so aggressively?"

Loki looks up at the man, swallowing. "It is a feast. Am I not to drink? Celebrate your victory, Admiral?"

The man grins wider. "No, I do not think that is the reason, Snow." He leans in slowly, but Loki can't seem to pull away quick enough. Lips hovering a few inches from his ear. "I think you are jealous of the women in his majesty's arms."

Loki steps back to see the curl of Alrik's lips. White teeth, silver glistening eyes.

"You speak nonsense again, Admiral. Why would I be envious? It is merely dancing."

"Oh really? Alright then."

The man reaches forward and grabs the goblet from Loki's grip, placing it back on the table. He steps up and offers his hand. Loki watches him carefully.

"May I have this dance?"

"Admiral-"

"You said it is merely dancing, did you not?"

Before he can say anything else, the man grabs his hand and pulls him gently to the center of the room. A couple of eyes watch them, some even furrow their eyebrows. When they get to the middle, Alrik pulls him into his body, one hand finding the small of his back, the other still holding his hand.

Loki looks around, trying to pull away.

"Admiral, what are you doing?"

"Dancing, Snow." Loki looks up at him in confusion. The man does not even look around, his face nonchalant and grinning like he doesn't feel eyes watching him. "I suggest you do the same before you draw attention to yourself."

Loki gulps and falls into step.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice barely above a whisper.

"I could not give up the chance to dance with someone as beautiful as you."

Loki pulls back slightly. "Admiral, you are mistaken. I am already-"

"Taken? Because it does not seem this way."

Loki looks down, his face burns slightly. It seemed that the alcohol was finally hitting him, his head was light and his muscles felt numb. He no longer wanted to hear the man's foolishness. He pulls away, feeling his stomach churn.

"Admiral. My heart belongs to another, I apologize."

The man looks down, his grin a little smaller now. 

"I see. I must warn you of how you give your heart out so simply. You do so carelessly. Even his majesty is capable to breaking your heart. If you ever find yourself treated unfairly, find me, little Snow. I can treat you better."

Loki does not say goodbye before turning around and leaving the room. He walks down the hallway until he reaches Thor's room. Two guards follow loosely behind him, he smiles to them as he enters the room, closing the door. He leans against the closed doors, feeling his limbs tire. 

Loki knew better than that. He knew that whatever he and Thor shared, it was anything but simple.

This was different.

 _Loki_ was different.

He walks over to the bed and lays on it, draping the cape around his body. 

His finger traces the embroidered 'L'.

 _Loki_ was different.

 

 


	19. Flips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to past sexual abuse / non-con.

A knock and the chamber doors open.

Light slowly trickles into the room and Loki sits up.

Thor walks in, his steps lagged just slightly. His armor is off, just a thin shirt clings to his chest. His muscles cast shadows even through the shirt, the lights roll off him in perfect ways. His cape is gone, hair let down in waves of gold.

Loki swings his legs off the bed as Thor walks up to him, his steps uncoordinated.

“Loki. Why is it you are alone in here?” Words just slightly slurred. A few steps close and Loki can smell the alcohol on his skin. His eyelids are lowered, blue eyes slightly darkened. His cheeks are a dust of pink, his mouth in a lazy frown. The scent of mead on his skin sparks uncomfortable feelings inside of Loki. Uneasy memories creep into his head. He pushes them away.

“I was tired, my king.”

Thor frowns. “There is something else?” Thor steps closer, his breath ghosts across Loki’s skin. A step closer and Loki can smell the floral scent of women on him. He cannot decide which scent he prefers.

Loki turns his head away. “No, just tired.”

Thor brings his hand to brush the hair out of Loki’s face. Loki flinches just slightly. He looks up to see Thor narrow his eyes, a spark of anger in his eyes.

Loki blinks, quickly whispering “I am sorry.”

Thor’s hands take Loki at the neck, fingers gripping almost too tightly. He leans in and forces a kiss on Loki’s lips, rough and sloppy. His stubble scratching against Loki’s chin, his tongue pry Loki’s lips open, pushing Loki backwards. The kiss is ravenous, hungry, like Thor is trying to prove something. He forces Loki onto his back, one hand undoing his top.

Loki pulls away, panting. The taste of alcohol dances on his tongue.

“Thor, stop.”

Thor leans in and continues to place a kiss on the corner of Loki’s jaw, making his way down Loki’s neck, sucking patches of skin, his tongue wet and lapping. The kisses are rough, sloppy.

“Thor, stop.”

Loki pushes the man away. Thor looks up at him with pain in his eyes. His mouth falls open, eyebrows furrowed. Sadness becomes annoyance.

“Why do you refuse me?”

“Thor I-“

“Dance one time with Alrik and suddenly you are no longer loyal to me? Is that it?”

Loki sits up fully, face hardening. “Thor you speak nonsense. It is not-”

“No? You make love to me and dance one time with Alrik and you are all his? Let him touch you and suddenly he owns you? I saw you Loki, saw you in his arms. Are you going to give him your body next? Make love to him? Huh? Use your mouth on him? Are you going to let him claim you? Use you? _Fuck_ you?”

“Thor!” Loki feels anger take over his body. He can feel this agony inside of his chest, this suffocating feeling, this feeling that suddenly is taking up too much space and no space at all. This rage, feeling of _betrayal._

He slaps Thor once in the face with all the force in his arm. He feels the sting in his palm, the sound of the slap echoes in the room. Shaky breaths leave his chest and he gets off the bed, leaving toward the door.

He hears stumbling, shift of fabric, and footsteps. “Loki, wait. I am sorry-“ A hand grabs his arm and he pulls away.

“Do not touch me, Thor. I am not one of your whores.”

He walks towards the door, hearing Thor follow after him.

“Please, Loki forgive me.”

Loki leaves the room without looking back, aware of the guards following him.

He walks past his room, walks down the hallways.

Strangely, there was no pain.

Just an ache.

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes up with his head resting on Fandral’s lap. The blonde was laying against the wall, a book in his hand. Loki opens his eyes to see Fandral look down at him. He looks to see a blanket draped over his body, the morning lights just beginning to cover Asgard.

“Good morning your royalty.”

Loki rolls his eyes but doesn’t get up. He clears his throat. “You are up early, Fandral. I expected you to be knocked out cold.”

Fandral grins, returning to his novel. “I am a skilled drinker, thank you very much.”

“How long have you been here Fandral?”

“It does not matter. I much rather be your pillow than do my duties.” An honest grin from the blonde and Loki scoffs. A few flip of Fandral’s pages and then he speaks again. “Do you mind me asking why I found you sleeping out on the balcony and not in a bed?”

Loki says nothing. Just listens to the soft, soft breathing of Fandral. The trickling of water from somewhere nearby. His heartbeat as his ear presses against Fandral’s leg. He listens to the flipping of Fandral’s book. The evenly spaced and quick pace of pages.

Fandral does not speak until a good nineteen flips later, most likely finishing a chapter.

“Thor drank a great amount last night.”

Loki hums in agreement.

A flip of the page but Loki knows Fandral is no longer reading.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

A flip of the page.

Somewhere along the road, Fandral became a brother to him. A man of laughter in his mouth and smile on his face. A man who always kept his eyes open. His back always facing Loki, always protecting, whether admitting it or not. Always providing wise words, always knowing when Loki was bothered.

“Are you certain?”

“He did not hurt me, Fandral.”

_Not in the way you assume._

Blue eyes look down at him now, there are no signs that he had been drinking all night. Loki is impressed.

“Did he ..”

“No. He just said some things. I said things as well. One of us was drunk, the other was not. It was foolish of us to argue. I will find him when he awakes.”

“What did he say?”

Loki sits up. Fandral watches his movements, placing the book down. He crosses his legs, leaning back against the wall.

“He – It was nothing. He was just envious for wrong reasons, and he said things he .. did not mean.”

_He could not have meant them._

“Loki. What did he say to you?”

“Why do you wish to know?”

“So I can tell you that they aren’t true, Loki.”

Loki looks out onto the land before him. The gold buildings reflecting lights, almost like they are on fire. Waters crash and he wishes he was back there again, back near the ocean, Thor holding him like he was something precious.

“I have .. been to bed with many people.”

“Loki, those swine forced themselves onto you-“

A silence. Memories trickle into his mind. Memories that hurt but flow easily. “Yes. But .. but the first time. The first time it happened .. I _chose_ to go to bed with him.” Loki can feel his chest tighten as he remembers the day. “He was passing by town, someone from the inner kingdom .. and I heard words that people like him would pay to go to bed. He was wealthy, someone who’d never come by again and ... I sold my body. I sold him my body. I was a whore. I let him use me. _Fuck_ me.” Everything is suddenly so cold inside. It was foolish to believe that he could have recovered so quickly, so easily. It was foolish to believe that that pain was just a phase in his life when it feels like a season.

“Loki!” Fandral stands and pulls Loki up on his feet. He pulls Loki into his arms, tucks Loki’s head into his neck. He holds him tight, desperate arms holding him together. Fandral’s neck is wet and its because Loki is crying. Not sobbing. Just little tears. Ones he does not care to hold back any longer. He hates how weak he is, when he knows how strong he can be. How strong _Thor_ has made him.

Both weakness and strength.

“Stop, Loki. You are a fool to say these things. Never call yourself these things. You did what you thought was right. No one, especially not yourself, should judge you for this.”

A hand finds the back of his head, another on his shoulder blade.

“I – I told him to stop Fandral. I did, I told him I changed my mind.”

The hand on his back starts to rub circles, Fandral nestles his head closer to Loki. The hand on his head slides down to his shoulder, gripping him tight.

“I told him I did not want to anymore. But he said – he said I already took his money. That I should take it like a good little slut. I told him no, Fandral ..” At this point he is shaking in Fandral’s arms, his head remembering things he locked away a long time ago.

“Shh, shh. It is okay, Loki. I am here.”

“I told him no Fandral. I – I told him no ..  I did!”

“I know you did. I know you did.”

The embrace gets tighter and Loki is worried that Fandral can’t keep his dislocated body together any longer.

He ignores the tight grip on his body. He listens. Listens to Fandral’s steady breaths. The sound of trickling water. The sound of his sniffling nose.

“I know you did. I know you did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN EXPLAIN! The Thor I wrote had no flaws whatsoever, and I believe that everyone should have their set of flaws. I wrote him in this way because the relationship was just too perfect.
> 
> DON'T STONE ME :(


	20. Bags

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for my absence yesterday, my internet wasn't working with me!

There were little words to describe what Thor was feeling.

He woke up and knew there was something wrong. His arms weren’t wrapped around his moon, his bed was cold, void of smooth hair and pale skin. His bed was empty and so was his chest. He sits up, feeling the tang of mead in his mouth. A survey of the room and still no Loki. He runs his hand on Loki’s spot and feels no warmth.

Thats when everything hits him.

Everything. Every word that came out of his mouth last night. Every word Loki said to him. It comes slowly, hazy at first, but then crashes down on him all at once. After that – after every single word is seared into his brain, there is a suffocating feeling of hatred. Self-hatred. Regret. Guilt. Disgust.

Had he really said those things to Loki?

_Are you going to give him your body next? Make love to him? Huh? Use your mouth on him? Are you going to let him claim you? Use you? Fuck you?_

It makes Thor want to vomit. He would never have said those words to Loki, never. He did not mean them, not in the slightest. He was envious of Alrik, yes. Seeing Loki being held by another man’s arms, seeing Alrik smirk, seeing him whisper in Loki’s ear – it flooded him with envy, with annoyance.

But never, never would Thor have intentionally said those things to Loki. The alcohol and jealousy was a poor combination – and Thor was not going to use this as his excuse. He made a mistake. An astronomical mistake. The moment the words come tearing though his head again, he knows how badly he has ruined things. How this single mistake could destroy everything they had. The trust they had built together, the relationship they formed – it all could be destroyed because Thor could not handle his foolish insecurities.

Loki meant so much to him, so so much. Thor can barely imagine how he feels, how much pain Thor must have caused him. And it makes everything so much _worse._ The self-loathe, the regret, it’s so suffocating, it’s too much and Thor can’t breathe – can’t think without feelings agony.

He stands and brings his fist into the wall.

Once. Twice. 

Angry earthquakes run through him, so much anger towards no one but himself.

It’s foreign to feel this much unsupressed anger again – this temper.

The only thing he can think of, as he walks to the sparring room, is how easily Loki would have calmed him down.

 

* * *

 

 

He forced Loki.

Thor slams his fists into the sparring bag. The impact ripples through his arms.

Forced him.

He slames his fist into it again, harder, hard enough so that he feels it in his bones.

_Forced him._

The bag sways as he thrusts against it, again and again.

“Forced him!”

Another slam and the bag breaks, falling to the ground and tearing open.

He stands there, arms tired, breathing ragged, chest feeling more anger than ever before. All he can think about is his lips pushing against Loki’s skin. Shoving his tongue into Loki’s mouth. Sucking bruises into his neck. _Forcing him._ Loki said stop. He said stop and Thor didn’t listen.

That made him no different than any of the swine in the dungeons below the castle. No different.

“Another.” He says, to the guard. The man nods and puts up another bag, this being the twentieth.

_"Thor, stop."_

He continues to slam his fists into the bag, wishing so much that the bag was himself. He didn’t deserve Loki. Not after what he did, what he so carelessly did. It was disgusting. Repulsive. Thor would not forgive himself if he was Loki. Thor would not forgive himself now, in fact.

_"Thor, stop."_

He jerks his arms uncontrollably as they slam into the bag, it breaks and he collapses on his knees, defeated. He pounds his fist into the floor.

_"Thor, stop."_

The fatigue evaporates, replaced by loud hatred. Fists clench. Already, he misses the way Loki soothes his temper, soothes any pain in his heart. He misses the solace that comes with beautiful pale skin. He hates himself for ruining everything.

The anger pushes him upwards, limbs in need of an outlet. He looks up to see that the guard is gone. In his place, Fandral.

The blonde watches him with a careful eye and kneels, bowing his head. “My king.”

Thor does not even try to hide his contempt.

“Rise.”

Thor looks down at his hands, resting them by his side. He hates how they touched Loki last night. How roughly they touched his skin. How lustily they opened Loki’s clothing. He hates how foolish he was, how blindly jealous he was. How pliant he was. It keeps repeating inside his head, a perpetual reminder of his ineptitude.

He stands, walks over to the stack of bags and grabs one, hooking it up.

He begins to thrash at it, quick, light punches at first. They increase steadily, like a storm, until the hits become irregular, ragged, sloppy. He pushes all of his strength into them, waiting for the burn in his muscles to discipline him.

_I am not one of your whores._

Was that what he thought he was? Was that how Thor made him feel? Like a whore?

Another punch and the bag goes flying towards the wall.

Thor pants for half a minute before walking over to the stack. When he grabs another bag, Fandral lays his hand softly on Thor’s, stopping him.

Thor looks up at him, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Enough, my king.”

He wants to say that he _has_ to, that he _has_ to do something to get rid of this feeling inside of him. He has to do something to get rid of this ache inside his chest. He wants to say he _needs_ this. But he looks up at Fandral and something tells him to stop.

“Enough, Thor.”

He nods.

 

* * *

 

 

They sit back to back on a bench. Thor leans on Fandral more than he’d like to admit.

“I spoke to Loki.”

Hearing the name magnified everything. He was being foolish, avoiding Loki. He needed to apologize – but every apology he could think of – it wasn’t enough. Nothing could be enough, he was afraid.

Thor swallows. “I – I made a mistake Fandral.”

“I know.” Fandral clears his throat. Thor lets it burn inside of himself. “It happens to the best of us.”

“No. No that is no excuse for my actions. There _are_ no excuses for my actions. I – I made a mistake, Fandral.”

His warrior hums in agreement. “You are afraid.”

_Yes. Yes, your king is afraid._

Fandral continues. “Afraid he will not forgive you.”

Thor feels annoyance bubble inside of him. He bites his lip.

“How can he? I said some terrible things.”

“So you will not apologize? You will not see him?”

Thor sits up, turning to Fandral. The man mirrors his position.

“What? No I will – I have to.” Fandral offers him a thin smile. Thor looks down. “What if I speak the wrong words?”

“Thor.”

He looks up at Fandral.

There is a silence between them before Fandral speaks.

“Do you love him?”

The question is unexpected, but his answer escapes his mouth before he can even think about it.

“Yes.”

_Yes_

Fandral looks away, smiling. “Then you have no reason to fear, my king.”

With that, he bows and then leaves.

 

* * *

 

 

He finds Loki at the steps of his throne. The man stands on the second platform, looking up at the empty throne.

It seemed, he was looking for Thor as well.

Thor walks up to the first set of stairs and stops. Loki turns and looks at him, his black hair falling softly off his shoulders as he moves. Thor just wanted to run his fingers through it again, wanted it to glide across his hands.

They stare at each other a long time, neither making a move. Thor watches Loki with gentle eyes, afraid that if he even blinks too hard, Loki will fade away. He looks down and notices that he changed out of the feast attire and into his regular clothes. There was something different.

He was wearing the cape.

It matched Thor’s.

Seeing it ached a little inside of him. It was Sif’s idea. He wanted to gift Loki with something, give him some idea that Thor wanted them to be exclusive. He wanted Loki to know that he really wanted _this,_ that he truly wanted Loki by his side. Wearing his cape, wearing the family fabric. It was something like a promise. A joint of them.

Thor wonders why Loki wears it now.

He walks up the steps, slowly, watching for any reaction from Loki. Any attempt to walk away. Any sign of disgust. Any sign of _anything._

Loki just watches him, a quizzical look. He reaches the platform, leaving a foot between them. Silence continues to bridge them. Fandral’s words echo in his head.

_Then you have no reason to fear, my king._

He kneels. One knee down, his cape falling softly behind him.

“I am sorry, Loki.” He has to bite back the ‘my’ part. “I did truly dishonorable things to you. I do not deserve your forgiveness for the things I said .. for the things I did. I never meant to hurt you – I never want to hurt you.” He stares down at Loki’s shoes, eyes focusing and unfocusing. The words he says are just loud enouh to hear. Loki says nothing.

“I was blindly envious. And I had drinken too much. And these are no excuses at all. I – I did not mean to touch you like that – force you to do anything you did not want. The things I said – they meant nothing. You aren’t a who-“ He swallows. “You are more than that to me. Much more than that.”

A silence.

Thor exhausted every amount of apology he had in him. There was nothing left to say – he didn’t know what else to say. Was there nothing else to say?

A shuffle of fabric and Loki kneels down, down until they are at eye level. Thor doesn’t look at him, doesn’t feel like he is worthy enough to look at the skin he attempted to ravish only hours ago.

Soft fingers find his chin, pulling him up.

Green eyes. Same. They are always the same. Stable.

“You are the best thing to happen to me, my king,” he says. “There is nothing you can do that I will not forgive. You cannot hurt me in ways that I have not hurt before.”

“I should not hurt you _at all_.” Loki smiles, that crooked, trickster smile of his. The one he gives when amused. “I had nothing, before. Nothing but the rags on my back.”

“It does not mean I get the right to treat you however I wish.”

“Would you give me anything, my king?”

Thor furrows his brows.

A pause.

Thor doesn't even have to think about his answer.

“Anything.”

Loki smiles, looking away. “There is something I have never had before, that I hope you can give me.” Loki says. He looks down at his feet, pulling his cape  and holding the corner for Thor to see. Thor looks down at the corner of the red cape, where gold thread was embroidered.

Like before, a cursive ‘L’ was there.

But this time, there was something different.

Beside the ‘L’, was an ‘O’.

Thor traces it with his finger.

“You will give me anything, my king?”

Thor looks up at him. Green eyes. Always the same.

“Anything.”


	21. Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note : some poorly written explicit content in this chapter

“It is amazing.”

Thor hums in agreement, feeling the ocean breeze sweep past them both. He stands behind Loki, who stills before the edge of the rainbow bridge, hair trying to escape with the wind. The air is crisp, cleansing. The lights are slowly melting into darkness, but aren’t quite there yet. Loki stands with his feet firm on the bridge, arms loose by his side. It seems, Loki fits perfectly against this horizon, soft lights blurring around the edges of his body, shadows darting in angles behind him. It feels like there is nothing more complete than this picture.

Loki, standing before the horizon like he is able to conquer the galaxies. Body fuller, hair longer, skin warmer. It’s difficult to imagine anything more beautiful. It’s difficult to picture this same man weeks ago, frail and withered. He is so different now. Strong. Snow, melted around him. He is no longer trapped under an unforigving winter. No longer searching for oceans inside puddles. He is whole and vibrant.

Thor lets his eyes stray to the cape dancing in the wind. Red and gorgeous and framing Loki in ways that make Thor grin. He should not have been forgiven for doing such things, but Loki barely showed any regret. It bothers Thor to the point where he wants to ask why – why Loki forgave him for acting so foolishly.

Was it because he pitied Thor?

Was it because he felt he needed to?

Was it because he was used to those actions?

Was it because he –

“I can hear you thinking, my king.”

Loki turns, only his head, the lights coasting around his face, dipping in and out of his eyes, shedding on his pale skin. How shadows and lights blur on Loki’s skin, he makes everything a masterpiece.

“I am sorry.”

Loki reaches out a hand, palm upwards.

Thor looks at it and hesitates. He reaches forward, slowly, paying attention to the way Loki’s shadow swallows his hand whole, paying attention to the way Loki moves. Waiting for the pull of his hand, waiting for the retreat of his palm.

It never comes.

Loki grips Thor’s hand, pulling him to stand beside him.

“I have forgiven you. There is no reason for you to be angry with yourself.”

Thor listens to the waves, colliding against each other. The teeth of the waters crashing against the bridge, a changing soundtrack. It is loud and encompassing, but also grounding – stabilizing.

Thor lets out a sigh that is swallowed by the sound of waves. “I am not angry. Shameful.”

“You are foolish.”

“I am.”

Loki looks up at him, frowning. “Do not compare yourself to them.”

Loki reads his mind. He has developed this talent. “Am I so different?”

The man chuckles softly. “You are so different from them I find difficulty placing you in the same sentence together. You are not like them, believe me when I say this. They forced themselves onto me with the intent of sating sexual desires.”

“I-“

“Did not do the same. I have never wanted those men. I almost always refused them – but they cared not for my resistance. They hurt me in ways – well, you are aware.” He grips Thor’s hand a little tighter. “You – my king – you I have wanted from the very beginning. I could care less with how you treat me, you have already proven yourself.”

Thor steps in front of Loki, his own shadow now blanketing Loki entirely. The green in his eyes is still bright and impossible to ignore. He swallows, watching.

“You give me too much, Loki.”

He leans in and kisses Thor’s neck. “You give me more.” Another kiss. Thor closes his eyes as he feels the man suck on the skin, wet kisses travelling up his throat. Shivers, Loki always comes with shivers that run down Thor’s spine.

He is like lightning.

Thor counts the crashing of waves to distract himself from Loki’s touch. The last thing he needed was Heimdall spotting Thor sucking Loki’s face off in the middle of the bridge.

Loki’s lips travel further up his throat.

Soft and gentle but somehow unraveling every vein in his body.

Thor makes it to twenty one before he grabs Loki and flies off.

 

* * *

 

They stop at the hallway that has both of their bedroom chambers. He has dismissed the guards for tonight. It is only Loki and Thor standing in the hallway, close enough to feel each other’s warmth, but so distant Thor cannot smell the ocean on Loki.

Thor hovers beside Loki’s room, pausing for a few seconds before turning to face him. Loki is watching him, eyes amused in pools of green.

“I – I was unsure if you wanted to ..”

Loki grins, the crooked grin that seems to dismantle Thor’s insides. “For a king, you are very insecure.”

Thor looks away. “You give me reason to.”

Slow steps and then arms wrap around Thor’s neck, lips find the angle of his jaw. A soft suckle, addicting warm body flush against him. Thor bites back a moan and pulls back, staring at Loki in the eyes. He leans forward just a bit, mouth parted, heart racing.

“Loki..”

The man closes the distance, capturing Thor’s lips in a soft kiss. It’s chaste at first – Thor not knowing if this is right, but Loki arches his body and Thor can feel his arousal.

They press against each other, kissing each other deep enough that they’ll never forget the taste. Kissing until they drowned in each other. Loki – sweet and quiet moans, Thor’s tongue in his mouth, hands roaming their way down Loki’s back. The fingers on Thor’s neck travel up to his hair, pulling as Loki presses further into Thor.

His hands find Loki’s butt, groping him. Loki moans in Thor’s mouth and breaks apart, panting, looking down at Thor’s lips.

“Thor.”

The desperate sound makes Thor lift Loki up, hands under the man’s thighs. Loki gasps softly before Thor catches his lips in another kiss. Their heads turn in angles, Loki sucking on his tongue.

Blindly, Thor carries Loki into his room, never breaking apart. Steps unbalanced but all Thor can feel is Loki’s hands on his chest, fingers swiftly removing clothes. All he can feel is Loki’s cock hard against his stomach, sharp breathes inhaled through their noses.

A collapse on the bed and Thor is almost tearing off Loki’s clothes. The kiss breaks apart and Thor pulls off his shirt. Loki watches his muscles lustily, laying on the bed and panting naked. Once his shirt is off, he latches his lips on Loki’s nipple, swirling his tongue around the tip.

A gasp and Loki arches his body, hands finding Thor’s head.

He kisses his way down, slowly and steady even if his blood is hot and his cock is achingly hard.

Naval, hipbone, thighs.

When was the last time he felt something so right?

“Thor-“

It’s a quiet plead, the fingers in his hair pull softly. Thor hums teasingly, mouthing a line to Loki’s cock.

He kisses the base, licking a strip from base to tip. Slowly, slowly. Loki trembles, soft whimpers exiting his mouth. The sounds drive Thor crazy, his own arousal hanging thick against his thigh. A soft swipe of his tongue across the slit and Loki holds back a jerk. Thor tries to mimic Loki’s actions before. He sucks the head into his mouth and Loki unravels.

“Thor,” The hands pull Thor up, and soon his body hover over Loki’s milky way skin. “I need you inside me.”

“I have never – I do not wish to hurt you.“ Thor pants, watching the dulled lust in Loki’s eyes. How deep they run – how beautiful they are.

“Let me.” A push and Thor is on his back, Loki straddling his hips. His aching cock fitting inbetween Loki’s cheeks, Loki grins down and Thor moans, holding back his hips. Loki smiles – grins, crooked and mischievous. His slender, sinful fingers dipping into his mouth, tongue wrapping around them – Thor cannot handle the lust that swallows his entire body.

“L-Loki you drive me crazy.”

The slim man lifts up gently, trailing those two fingers and fingering himself. He closes his eyes and his head lolls backwards.

He starts to ride his own fingers and Thor almost loses himself there – almost spills from watching Loki do such a thing. He is beautiful, white skin slowly blushing this beautiful pink color. He is a masterpiece – a season on his own.

Loki opens his eyes when Thor bites back another groan, he smiles again, leaning down to kiss Thor. Thor opens his mouth and he’s tasting something sweet again. In his mouth – on his tongue – in his _blood._

“Do you want me, my king?”

The way his tongue curls around ‘my king’ destroys anything left inside of Thor.  “Yes. Yes. _Yes_ Loki.”

The thinner man scoot backwards until his face is above Thor’s cock. Thor leans up on his elbows to watch Loki swallow his length down to the hilt. He can’t hold back the loud moan, thrusting softly into Loki’s sinful mouth. Loki watches him as he bobs slowly, hollowing his cheeks – the sound of him sucking. He takes Thor down to the base, the head of Thor’s cock reaching past Loki’s throat.

A swallow and Thor collapses back on his back, unable to hold himself up through the pleasure. Loki pulls back and the warmth is gone – Thor whimpers from the loss. Loki straddles Thor again, same crooked grin – he has Thor in his fingertips now.

Thor’s hands find Loki’s hips and then the man is back on his knees, raised slightly above Thor. His slender fingers wrap around Thor’s length and Loki lines it up to his entrance.

Slowly – achingly slow, he sinks down onto it. Inch by agonizing inch.

The moment the head of his cock sinks into the tight hold he is moaning shamefully, fingers gripping Loki’s hips. Loki makes little pants as he continues to tighten around Thor – this addicting warmth and pressure threatens to blow Thor right then and there. It takes everything for him not to thrust up into the tightness, inches later, Loki moans loudly when he’s taken Thor to the hilt. His hands fall back to the back of his ankles, body  arching.

“Thor, you feel amazing inside of me.”

He wants to tell Loki how insane that makes him feel but everything is lost when Loki begins to raise off of his cock and then sinking back down.

Moans from the both of them blur together, nothing coherent – everything drowned in pleasure. Loki begins slowly, but it seems the pleasure takes them both and he begins to increase his speed. The entirety of Thor’s length never slips out, always pulling until the head and then Loki collapses back down to the hilt.

It’s impossible to describe – impossible to think. Loki’s moans, their sweated bodies electrified in pleasure. A few more bounces and Loki collapses on Thor panting, he kisses Thor’s collar softly.

“Fuck me, my king.”

Thor _growls_ and begins to thrust into Loki, hitting at an angle that makes Loki jerk in pleasure. A few deep, rapid thrusts into Loki and he can feel himself begin to climax. Loki gets there first as Thor continues to hit that spot inside of him. He moans a last time – jerking on top of Thor, ropes of cum plastering against Thor’s stomach.

Loki’s orgasm causes him to tighten around Thor’s length and soon he’s spilling inside, white hot pleasure blurring stars across his eyes.

Everything is blinding.

They both are still, Loki laying on top of Thor. Pants are shared between them, every part of his body seems to be dysfunctional.

His hand trails up to Loki’s hair, massing the scalp softly.

“Was I – Did I hurt you?” He asks, because he always has to be sure. Even if Loki says he owns this body – no matter what Loki says. He will take care of Loki.

A chuckle. He can almost feel Loki smiling on his chest. “Not at all, my king. You are my first.”

“Your first?”

“The first man to make me feel this way.”

A kiss on his chest. Soft – almost as soft as the snow Thor found Loki in.

“And I will be the last.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought some healing was needed :)


	22. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to update this week because of all the university work I had, but I couldn't just let y'all down! I kinda know where I'm going but at the same time I don't .. I never write with a set plan, but hopefully it doesn't feel too awkward.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Loki meant what he said.

Thor _was_ the first man to make him feel this way. But it was more than a consensual climax – it was so much more. He wasn't just the first man to give him physical pleasure - he gave Loki so much more. He was the _air_ in Loki’s lungs – almost keeping him alive. He was the lightrays melting the snow around Loki – keeping him warm and whole.

He was the first and will be the last.

The morning after their night of passion, Loki wakes in his king’s arms. Strong and warm. The light trickling through the curtains, they trace Thor’s skin in soft angles. He looked different while asleep, different but still gorgeous. Golden skin, thick lashes. His muscled chest rising and falling, Loki’s hand placed above his heart. He leans over quietly, places a kiss on Thor’s jaw and retreats. Before he can pull back, a hand cradles his neck, holding him in place.

One of Thor’s eyes crack open, blue, beautiful blue.

“You have courage to try and take advantage of your king while he is asleep.” A curl of his lips and his other eye peeks open.

“Well you were pretending to sleep so it does not count.” Thor grins at him, watching him with amused eyes. The man leans up slightly and catches Loki’s lips in his.

They’ve kissed so many times but it never fails to feel electrifying. Massaging each other’s lips and then Thor’s tongue is inside of him, quiet moans exchanged. A spark in Loki’s body and memories of last night gather in his mind. Thor’s low growl, his sounds of pure desire. Thor’s thickened length filling Loki entirely – rubbing against a spot that drove Loki insane. His thrusts controlled at first – hesitant on hurting Loki – but after Loki’s cries of pleasure those turned to frantic slamming of Thor’s cock into him. His taste, his warmth, his scent.

It was so perfect.

“What are you thinking of?” Thor pulls apart laying back down. Loki crawls on Thor’s chest, laying his head down.

“Someone.”

“Someone?” A hand travels up and down Loki’s spine, slow caresses. “Do I know this someone?”

Loki hums, like he is thinking. “Yes I suppose you do.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Oh _yes_ you should be worried.”

He can almost feel Thor’s grin.

He sits up, straddling Thor’s hips. Thor watches him with the same glint of desire as last night.

“You drive me insane, Loki.”

“As long as you know it.”

He bends down and places a soft kiss on Thor’s lips. Thor pushes upwards, sucking Loki's lower lip into his mouth, his tongue darting out and tasting him. A soft kiss on the corner of his mouth and he lays back down. Thor pulls him and cuddles him in a tight embrace, fingers running through his hair. It feels right, just to be here, comfortably drowning in morning lights and Thor’s warmth. It’s almost impossible to remember the feeling of coldness and loneliness. There is no pain with Thor, no abuse. Just warmth and something Loki can’t quite figure out. Some feeling inside his chest – it’s new and daunting. Like it’s clearing away the fear inside and leaving room for flowers to grow.

It’s like he’s able to feel beautiful for once..

Thor gives him that.

“I have meetings with my council today.” Thor’s words, soft against Loki’s skin. He presses a kiss on the top of Loki’s head.

“Meaning no time for me?”

Thor chuckles, the rumble of his chest feels like home for Loki.

“I will be free later tonight. I’m sure you will find something to entertain you.”

Thor sits up, Loki lays still, watching the way the muscles shift under golden skin.

Thor catches him, smirking. “Do you like what you see?” He flexes slightly, eyes an amused blue.

_Two can play that game, my king._

Loki gets out of the bed, one fur wrapped loosely around his naked body.

“Maybe,” He says, dropping the fur on his way to the bathroom. He bends over to pick it up, his naked bottom bared to Thor. Loki stands back up and looks over his shoulder. Thor, his mouth open, eyes lustful, cheeks dusted pink.

“Like something you see, my king?” Loki grins and walks into the bathroom, swaying his hips with a little more emphasis.

He hears a growl before the sheets are thrown to the floor and loud steps follow.

 

* * *

 

Loki flushes when Thor leaves their chambers ( _their chambers_ ). A gentle kiss pressed behind Loki’s ear, a swipe of the tongue. Loki can still taste Thor on his tongue, addicting. The man sucks a soft mark on Loki’s collar before he leaves.

That's when Loki sees it – Thor's cape – he wasn’t wearing _his_ cape. On the bottom right corner, ‘L.O.’ in cursive script.

Loki’s eyes widen, he blushes, walking back towards the bed, where the other cape is. He grins when the bottom right of this cape has the letters ‘T.O.’ It seemed his king was a romantic.

He pulls it off the bed, swirling it on his back.

Wearing Thor's claim, wearing his name on Loki's back.

There was nothing to say except that it felt _right._

 

* * *

 

He spent the first half of his day in the library, Frigga teaching him Midgardian poetry. How she knew about this, he was unaware, but he enjoyed her gentle voice and warm presence. She did not ask about his cape, but she smiled. Her eyes so warm, the warmest Loki has seen them since he came to the castle. Almost like she was happy for them both – like she hadn’t been happy for a very long time. Loki assumed since her husband’s passing – but he could only guess.

It made him happy, immensely so, to make Frigga happy – this woman who had accepted Loki under her arms, under her home. She provided motherly affection, she provided a healing Loki had previously been unaware of. Midgardian poetry was not interesting as he’d hope, but he’d learn about anything if Frigga was teaching it.

After the library, he traveled to the public gardens, a sketchbook in hand. For the rest of the daylight, he sat and drew different flowers. He knew nothing of art, never once doing something like this, but he read books on art and he wanted to try it.

In a few hours, half of the book was full of the various flowers in the garden. He’d counted twenty two different flowers.

Placing the book gently on the floor, he made his way to the bush of white roses in the middle of the garden – the same ones Thor gave to him weeks ago. They were still beautiful, only a few stray petals on the ground.

Loki turns his attention away from the bush of roses when he hears footsteps.

“It looks good on you.” The voice says.

Loki turns to see Fandral leaning against the center tree, his arms crossed. His eyes amused, large grin wrapped around white teeth. Loki smiles softly, looking down at the cape whipping softly in the wind. The gold embroidery shimmering against the red fabric. It did look beautiful.

“Fandral.”

“Your royalty.”

Loki narrows his eyes. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

Fandral walks over to him in slow steps, his eyes drifting from the different plants. “I take it things went well.”

Loki looks down at the bush, fingers brushing against one of the white petals. Soft, smooth. Unbroken, whole. Had he become like this?

“Yes, you could say that.” Fandral grabs the rose Loki is looking at, he fishes a pocket knife from his armor and cuts the stem.

“And your doubts?” Fandral takes the rose and begins to slice off the thorns.

“My doubts?” Loki watches Fandral’s fingers, watches how softly he holds the knife, but how sharp the blades are.

“Your doubts. You came to me before the feast with questions.”

He starts walking around the garden, occasionally stopping at a different section, cutting off another flower. Loki follows behind him, watching the way he handled each flower. Never a petal broken or bent.

“When I am with him, there are no doubts.”  It was true. In Thor’s arms, he felt like the only man in the world, the only one Thor cared for. He felt special, he felt beautiful.

Fandral curves around to another bush, carefully removing a flower. He never looks at Loki in the eye, he asks serious questions, but never pressures Loki into answering them.

“And when you are not with him?”

A silence. Fandral does not ask again, instead he waits. Loki grabs the sleeve of Fandral’s shirt, walking him to a bench. Fandral sits beside him, the various flowers in his lap. Loki watches as he braids the stems together, intricate with deft fingers.

“It is not him. It is me. I am almost sure of it. My – my mind likes to play games. I am insecure – the men of my past have made me this way.” His voice quiets has he reaches the end of the sentence. Even now, when he belongs to Thor, the king of Asgard, the men of his past still haunt him. Telling him he was useless, worth nothing, that no one would ever want him for anything but a good lay. Even as Thor made him feel so valuable, the little words at the back of his head – they were toxic.

He hated it.

Hated how Thor made him feel special but his mind just couldn’t _accept_ it. Because it was trained not to believe it – because it was told so many times that it was impossible to _be_ something.

“Those men are your past. Never again will you see them again. Their whispers were nothing, they were not true. You believed them because that's all you had. But now, now you have much, much more. You have Thor. You have me. You have Frigga. Forget those men. Let their words decay. Let flowers grow from their ashes.” Fandral looks at him, eyes so pure and clear. He raises the braid of flowers – a crown, a flower crown – and places it gingerly on Loki’s head. It fits perfectly, he lets Fandral snuggle it down, shifting the hairs around it.

“Fandral.”

“Yes, your royalty?”

“Thank you.”

Fandral smiles.

“Of course. You make my king happy. Therefore, I must make you happy.”

Loki returns the smile. “Then, does me being happy, make you happy?”

A chuckle. “Yes, of course.”

“Then I will try to frown less often.”

“Loki?”

“Yes, Fandral?”

“Thank you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more fluff before the roller coaster goes down again ... 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. I really have grown to like writing Fandral, I hope everyone likes the way I've characterized him. 
> 
> See you next week :)


	23. Bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially posted this chapter earlier, on wednesday, but AO3 was having technical difficulties so instead I'm posting it on schedule today. Additionally, another of my works was accidentally deleted at 84k words :(. I don't know why, but I'm currently licking my wounds and slowly reposting chapters of that fic. At least it wasn't this work that got deleted, right? :)
> 
> This chapter .......... is a mess. It got away from me. Anyways, I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving. Just letting everyone know I'm thankful for yall!

“You have to go?” Loki frowns.

“I have to go.”

“You have to go?”

Gentle fingers find Loki’s chin, pulling his face up to stare into the warmest blue eyes. Thor’s hair pulled in a warrior’s braid, loose strands whispering in the breeze. Thor leans in, their foreheads pressed against each other. Warm breaths – warm skin. A hand around his waist, another snaking down to grope his butt. Loki rests his palms on Thor’s chest-plate, a part of him wanting to soak in his warmth.

“You worry for naught. Do you not believe I am the strongest warrior alive?”

Even the greatest warriors can fall, my king.

“And does the strongest warrior not bleed? Does he not feel pain?”

Thor pushes him against the wall, muscled body flush against him. “You doubt me, Loki?” His voice a low, deep growl.

“No.” Loki feels himself blush from the close proximity.

“Then what?”

Loki pulls his head back to search in the ocean of Thor’s eyes. Hurt. Loki’s doubts were waning on Thor’s confidence, it seemed. But if not doubtful, how else was he suppose to feel?

Abrupt unrest in the realms and suddenly Thor was preparing to leave Asgard? That was it? And what? Loki was suppose to be happy that his king was going headfirst into battle? He was suppose to be optimistic that the only man he’s loved was facing certain death?

“I just – I do not want to lose you.”

Thor stares at him, eyes lidded, lashes long and curled. Loki runs a hand on Thor’s jaw, feeling the stubble scratch against his palm. Thor closes in, catches Loki in a kiss. It’s soft at first, but Thor pushes forward, deepening it.

His tongue swipes against Loki’s lip and he’s opening his mouth, letting Thor in, tasting his addicting flavor. Loki moans, feeling Thor’s fingers grip his butt, feeling Thor’s mouth suck on his tongue, feeling Thor’s throat rumble in pleasure. Mouths, lapping at each other, stubble burning against Loki’s skin.

Thor pushes him against the wall harder, mouth breaking apart to latch onto the column of Loki’s throat. He sucks a trail of bruises, tongue lapping on each spot. Loki moans as he licks upwards, capturing his lips in another warm kiss.

They break apart panting, Loki’s cheeks red, his lips swollen from the kissing.

He looks up at Thor, whose eyes are cloudy with desire, his lips in the same state.

“You will not lose me,” he says. “I will only be gone for a few days.”

“You will come back?”

“I will come back.”

“You have to go?”

Thor smiles, leaning in for a kiss on the corner of Loki’s mouth. “I have to go.”

Two knocks on the throne doors and they pull apart, turning. The golden doors swing open, revealing Admiral Alrik and two guards. The Admiral bows, his battle armor gleaming in the lights.

“My king. The fleet is ready.”

Thor makes an approving hum. “I understand, I will be outside.” The admiral nods, giving one glance to Loki before he turns to leave, the two guards following.

Thor turns to Loki and kisses him again, deep and tantalizing. He moans quietly into Loki’s throat, sucking his lower lip before pulling away with a smirk.

He turns to leave, red cape billowing behind him.

Once the room is empty, Loki walks up the stairs and stands before the throne. He sits on the edge, imagining the day he’d get to sit on Thor’s lap and kiss him.

He lets out a sigh, silently cursing the realms.

He’d miss his king.

 

* * *

 

“So how is he in bed?”

Loki chokes on his wine, the red liquid dripping down his chin as he swats it with a cloth. He jerks his eyes to the warrior in front of him.

“S-Sif! You cannot just ask these things out loud!”

Sif rolls her eyes sitting back in her chair. “Oh come now, Loki. I am already furious for being left behind this time! At least give me some entertainment!”

Loki feels his face blush.

It seemed Lady Sif was the one chosen to stay behind and watch the kingdom, the Warriors Three and the Admiral of the fleet all accompanying Thor. She was annoyed by the decision, but Loki was just glad it wasn’t Hogun who was left behind. They’d be having a very boring conversation if that was the case.

Sif grins at him, popping a grape in her mouth. “Give a girl some details!”

Loki looks pointedly at the table, feeling his face warm. “What makes you think we are even sleeping together?”

Sif scoffs loudly, throwing another grape in her mouth. “So is it safe for me to assume that the marks on your neck are some sort of rash?”

Loki’s mouth gapes open, Sif grins widely, her eyes all too knowing.

“Oh do not be embarrassed! So tell me! I have been unlucky in the subject lately. It is the least you could do.” She leans forward, placing her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands. How easily she could speak of sex aloud – it made Loki so shy.

“He – uh – he is .. good.”

Sif leans in closer. “Only good?”

“G-great! He’s amazing – impossibly amazing.” He shoves his face in his hands, feeling fire bursting in his face.

Sif leans back and starts barking out laughter, she laughs enough to fall out of her chair.

“S-Sif! Do not laugh at me!” He glares at her, feeling the pink stay on his cheeks.

“I – I am s-sorry!” She crawls back up panting, her eyes wet with tears. She clears her throat. “I am sorry. It is just – he must be amazing for you not to be able to even speak of it!”

Loki turns his body away, crossing his arms, and shutting his eyes in defiance. “Hmph!”

“Oh come on Loki! I was merely jesting. Loki..” She nudges him.

He keeps the same posture, eyes shut. “What.”

“One more question. Just one!”

He sighs, “What is it?”

She leans in and whispers it even if no one in the room besides them. “How long is his .. sword?”

Loki nearly falls off his chair in surprise. “SIF!” He turns to her, eyes wide and mouth agape. “How do you ask these things with a straight face!”

She starts to bark in laughter again, slowly sliding down her chair and onto the floor.

Loki stands and turns, walking away. “The size of his sword is none of your business!”

Before he can slam the door she calls out, “So it must be impressive!”

“SIF!”

 

* * *

 

The week of Thor’s absence was embarrassingly difficult. Sleeping without Thor was embarrassingly difficult. Waking up without Thor was also embarrassingly difficult.

Everything was just so difficult without Thor.

It seemed over time, the man had paved away a space inside Loki’s chest - each kiss and each touch seemed to make the space larger. With each fluttering moment – each ache and feeling, Thor seemed to pave away more inside Loki. And he filled it – he filled this home inside Loki’s chest perfectly. It was like he made Loki a part of him and Thor, a part of Loki.

But now, without him, it all seemed so boring, so droll. He missed waking up with Thor’s sinful lips whispering secrets in the back of his neck. He missed Thor’s calloused fingers tracing his skin, rough lines in all the right places. He missed the feeling of Thor’s skin, being filled by Thor’s length. He missed the kisses and the touches. The feeling of protection. He missed his home.

Sif seemed to notice his state tumult and tried her best to keep him distracted. (Her questions of their .. personal relations caused Loki to think about it for the rest of the day – and there was no way to quell his thoughts. After that she didn’t mention it again, but still teased their love.)

He spent most of his time with her, and on the second day, she showed him one of her favorite hobbies – fighting.

Following that day, he spent more and more time in the exercising room, sparring and training with Sif. She showed him ways to fight, basic self defense – even helped him trained to get stronger. She had been gentle with him, but after the first night Loki counted twenty-three visible bruises on his body. Despite this, he returned the next day, learning whatever she could teach.

By the end of that week he had seen some improvement in himself, even though it wasn’t much, the improvement made him hungry for more growth. He liked the idea of growing into a stronger person than before. Thor made him a capable person mentally and emotionally, but he didn’t mind being able to defend himself physically for once.

Sif seemed to understand this, so she worked him hard, always driving to become greater with each session. The training was difficult, especially since Loki was not use to exerting himself physically, but by the sixth day, he even got a light hit on her – she was impressed.

By the time the sessions would end, Loki would be too tired to even think of anything before he collapsed in bed. She had successfully distracted him for the most part. And even though he still thought of his Thor for some of the day, it was more of an excited ‘I-cannot-wait-to-see-him-again’ instead of the depressed drag.

He began to feel better as a person – in this way. It felt like he was finally moving on as a person, leaving the past behind him.

 

* * *

 

“Ack!”

His back hits the floormat with a slam, the air in his chest pushed outwards. He lays there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the satisfying soreness in his limbs. His skin was sweaty, hair tied back with a few escaped strands.

A few footsteps and Sif’s hand is held in front of him. He smiles up at her – a new bond between them – and grabs her hand, letting her pull him to his feet.

At first, she barely broke a sweat, but now, she was almost as bad as he was, her chest panting just slightly. She grins at him.

“You did well, Loki. You learn fast, maybe show his majesty a thing or two when he comes back.”

Loki grins at her, accepting a towel from one of the maids. He pats his head with it, nodding at Sif. “We shall see.” He stretches with a groan and makes his way towards the door. “I think I am finished today. Thank you for the training.”

She throws him a smile before saluting him. “It is my pleasure. Maybe one day you will best me in sparring.”

He leaves the room with an affirmative hum.

His two guards follow loosely behind, he walks through the hallways, feeling the quiet ache in his muscles with each step. He walks down the hallway that leads to the chambers. It is wide and windowed, giving a large view of Asgard. Loki stands there, letting the moonlight soak in his skin. He pauses, looking out at the sea, thinking about his king.

It had been a week already and he hadn’t been back yet – he missed him. He wondered if the man was safe. Loki turns his head slightly to the left to address his guard.

“When do you think his Majesty will co-“

He cannot finish his sentence before a loud crash in the windows silences him. Something smashes into the glass and the window shatters, shards of glass flying everywhere, cutting him. Another loud smash and the windows continue to shatter. It happens too fast – one moment glass is raining down and the next a guard is tackling him into the ground. His body slams downwards with force, air pushed out of his chest. He cannot register anything except the continual crashing of the windows, glass being thrown in all directions. Eventually the crashing ceases, leaving them in a pile of shards of glass. 

Loud footsteps echo down the hallway and a voice calls out.

“What happened?” The guard shielding his body sits up, throwing himself towards the window to look outside. Loki sits up to see Sif standing there, eyes frantic. She faces the guard at the window. “Go! Find who did this!”

The guard hesitates before running down the hallways.

Loki stands up, feeling sharp pains in his face, arms, chest. Blood drips from his skin and his head aches. Sif is quick to support him, they both slowly stand and look at the mess before them. The entire hallways is chaotic, glass everywhere. They both look from the broken windows .. to the glass filled floor .. to the wall.

They both let out a gasp at what they see. A series of arrows across the wall, each having broken a window. Loki steps towards the one aimed for his head – he notices that it is different from the others.

On the tail, a note – a note stuck on the arrow. Sif watches him as he approaches it, grabbing the arrow with his fingers. His cuts sting but he ignores it.

With a little force, he pries it away, holding it down in the moonlight to read it.

A single sentence.

_‘I know what you are, you slut, and soon, your king will know too.’_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @_@ Idk, sorry.


	24. Cuts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot to post because I took a day long nap, LOL.
> 
> Anyways, taking finals this week but I took the liberty of already writing out the chapter before so I wouldn't get caught up. :) Thanks to all my readers again, I love each and every.

“Loki.” A hand is placed on his shoulder, gripping him tightly.

_‘I know what you are, you slut, and soon, your king will know too.’_

 “ _Loki.”_ The hand shakes him softly.

_‘I know what you are, you slut, and soon, your king will know too.’_

 “Loki!”

He snaps his head up to Sif, who is watching him intensely, her eyes shining with moonlight and anger.

“Loki, we need to get the glass out of your skin.”

He looks around, back at the glass on the floor, the crooked teeth around the rims of the window. The arrows on the wall, the small piece of paper in his hands.

“Loki?”

He nods once, slowly. “Oh-okay.” He tucks the paper into his pocket, swallowing down fear.

Sif beckons to the few servants who have appeared from the sudden noise. She faces a couple of guards, “Go find out who has done this, do not let them escape. You – secure the castle.” She turns to some servants, “please clean the glass, leave the arrows, and fix the window.” She looks back to Loki, her eyes searching his face. “Loki, follow the healers and I will check on you as soon as I secure the perimeter.”

He can only nod once before the healers escort him away from the hallway.

In his hand, the paper burns into his skin.

 

* * *

 

Hours ago, he was ushered into the king’s chambers, being told to rest. It seemed even the servants knew of his relationship with their king.

The entire time, Loki was restless. His skin stung, but his heart suddenly housed the Asgardian ocean – rough and torrential. How long had it been, since he felt fear? How long has it been since Thor carried him in his strong arms, taking him away from pain? When was the last time he was this afraid?

And over what?

A piece of paper?

A soft knock on the door, Loki looks up at the open space. Sif walks in, her face troubled. Loki watches her walk towards the bed – he probably looked lonely in one corner the king’s large bed. She stops at the foot and offers him a small smile.

“How are you fairing?”

The guard had shielded him from the arrows that followed the first, but the shower of glass cut into his skin in various places. He got the feeling that the arrow had missed on purpose, though.

“I am well. Just some cuts.” He gestures at the bandages. The healers fixed most of it – the bandages were there to garunty a clean recovery. It felt like ages since he was last on this bed, bandaged and wounded. Luckily, it was much less serious this time around.

“The archer?”

Sif shakes her head, resting her hands on the foot of the bed. “Gone. I have men searching – but we do not know who we are searching for. The guards who were on watch on that side of the castle – they were knocked out.”

Loki looks down at his hands, the cuts in his palms from when he landed. “And my guard?”

“He is alright. I am more worried for you.”

Loki shakes his head but stays quiet.

The paper – it had been eating away in his mind. The thing was, he did not know what it was talking about – not a single clue. What did it mean? What did it mean by ‘I know what you are?’ The single sentence still burns into Loki’s head.

Sif clears her throat. “The – the paper. What did it say?” He looks up at her in fear, throat dry.

Why was he afraid? What was there to fear? Why was he so scared?

She looks at him with a shielded expression. “It – it may help us in searching for who did it.”

Loki nods in understanding, gesturing towards the table besides the bed. Sif follows his motion and walks toward it. She reaches the table and hesitates just slightly before picking up the strip of paper and reading it. Her facial expression does not change – she seems to read it over twice.

“Do you have any idea?”

“No.”

_Any idea on who sent it?_

_Or any idea on what it means?_

The answer to both, was no, but the question mattered.

“I will let you rest, then. I have stationed extra guards around the perimeter and outside your door. Let them know if you need anything.”

Loki nods, watching her walk out.

She turns over her shoulder when she reaches the door, “His majesty will be back tomorrow. I assume he will be furious.”

Loki nods.

Yes, he would.

But furious at whom?

 

* * *

 

A loud bang wakes Loki up – and for a quick second he is afraid, afraid that whoever wanted him before, was here again. He sits up frantically, hands curling into the furs of the bed. The doors of the bed chambers slam open, revealing the king of Asgard.

Thor’s hair is loosened from it’s braid, falling in defined blonde waves. His face is smudged with dirt – his armor also in a slightly worn condition. His eyes – the eyes Loki has missed the entire week – they are widened with fear. His fists, cradled by his side, clenched with anger.

Beads of sweat on his brow, he pants softly – he had run here.

Loki lets out a sigh of relief – relief that his king is safe, sound, and here, standing before Loki with no injuries. “Tho-“

The king rushes over, cape billowing wildly behind him, his boots slapping against the floor.

Loki is pushed backwards as the muscled body collides into him, strong arms wrapping tightly around his body. A hand shoves his face into Thor’s neck – the scent of his musk is welcoming, the warmth is exactly the way Loki remembered. The tickle of stubble against his forehead. A kiss, soft, and then another on his head, Thor inhales Loki’s scent.

“Th-Thor, you are holding me too tight.”

The man pushes away so suddenly, his eyes even wider than before. “Forgive me. You are hurt.”

Loki looks up at him, smiling softly at the face he has missed the entire week. Everything seems to feel okay, with him here. He throws himself in Thor’s chest, wrapping his arms as tight as he can around the man. Thor returns the hug a little more gingerly, a hand roaming up to the hairs on the back of Loki’s neck, massaging softly.

“I have missed you, my king.” The whisper is soft, but Thor hears it, he kisses Loki again on the top of his head.

“And I, you.” He clears his throat. “I should have been here. What happened? I only heard you were hurt before I came running here.” Thor pulls back, Loki whimpers from the loss of touch.

The man stares at Loki’s chest and his fingers pull apart Loki’s clothes, his touch soft as he pulls the cloth off of Loki’s naked skin. Loki watches Thor’s face, watches the way it slowly steels. The blonde leans down to place gentle kisses on top of the bandages, Loki shivers with the contact.

He’d miss those lips.

“It is nothing.” Loki pushes away the hands on his cold skin, pulling the clothes back on his body. He know Thor would take time to kiss each and every little cut. Every twentyfour, if he had the chance. Loki blushes at the thought and Thor looks up at him, anger in his eyes.

“What happened?”

Loki looks away from the fire in Thor’s eyes. He grabs Thor’s hand (the hand he held Mjiolnr with), holding it up to his face, tracing the tiny scrapes on his knuckles, his fingers, his palm.

“Loki.”

“Arrows. Someone fired arrows in the north hallway.” Loki kisses a cut on Thor’s knuckles.

“Who? When? Who dares to hurt my Lo-“

“I do not know. Whoever it was, escaped.”

Thor rises off the bed, pulling his hand out of Loki’s grip. He turns and gets off the bed, Loki lurches forward to grab at his arm. The muscles flex under his grip – he’d miss these strong arms.

“There .. there is more.”

Thor turns to him, loose blonde waves shifting on his shoulders. He looks down at Loki, narrowing his eyes. Loki takes note of this whiteness in his knuckles.

“More?”

Loki doesn’t meet Thor’s eyes, only reaches over the stand for the tiny piece of paper. Such a small thing, but such a large impact. He holds it in his fingers for a second – he can rip it apart right now, he can tear it to shreds _. His_ fingers can do that.

But he doesn’t.

He hands it to Thor, the other man confused.

The fury is inevitable, Loki knows this. The paper is crushed in Thor’s fist the moment he reads it. After, a huff before Thor is slamming that fist into the wall, the noise is loud and even startles Loki.

He gets off the bed and wraps his body around Thor, he knows it will calm the king almost immediately. “I am sorry, my king.”

Thor wants to turn but Loki doesn’t let him, only holds tighter, resting his head between Thor’s shoulderblades.

Inside his head, Loki begins to formulate as many apologies as he can. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Sorry for sleeping around. Sorry for being so used. Sorry for doing whatever I did. Sorry for being a slut – sorry sorry sorry. He doesn’t care if they aren’t true, just wants this man to forgive him.

 “Again you apologize without reason.”

Loki is startled, internally. His king did not doubt him – his lover did not doubt him.

“You are not angry with me?”

This time Thor does turn, holding Loki by his wrists, two battle-worn hands covering his skin. The blue in his king’s eyes is sharp, glacial, almost. He leans down so that they are close, Loki never tires of this warmth, of this suffocation in his chest whenever Thor is near.

“Loki. The only one I am angry with is the person who dares to hurt something that belongs to me.”

Loki looks away and blushes, whispering softly, “Do not speak of me as if I am property.”

“You know I did not mean that. Look at me.”

He reluctantly meets those eyes again.

“I will never be angry with you. Never.”

Thor leans down to kiss him – he tastes the same as always, sweet and addicting. Loki opens his mouth and savors the taste, Thor’s tongue reclaiming his mouth, a kiss so fierce Loki can feel his toes curl.

Loki moans, wondering if Thor would ever be angry with him – if he truly meant his words.

Soon, he would find out.

 

 


	25. Candles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I am terrible at plot writing. Request: bear with me. Sidenote: I love you all. Apologies: I literally just wrote this, sorry for typo or if it feels rushed.

“Thor, you are being ridiculous.”

“Stay still.”

“I refuse.”

“Stay still Loki.”

Loki looks up at him, the color in his eyes so stark against such pale skin. His neck and chest are pinkened, his hair in wet tendrils. Little droplets of water rest on his throat, they slide down into the groove of his collar. Thor lets his eyes drag down the expanse of moonkissed skin, admiring the ridges and color. The cuts on Loki’s skin have all but vanished, leaving behind just tiny red lines. Even those, do nothing to taint such a beautiful canvas.

“I am very capable to washing myself.”

Thor gently pulls Loki back into the bath, the slightly hot water rippling around them. Little rose petals swim around them, bringing a floral scent in the air. The lighting is dim, Thor found enough candles to light the entire bathroom. Twenty-five little fires flickering lights, casting shadows and warmth. It is all so quiet, peaceful. All advise from Sif. ‘ _To help him relax, my king.’_ She had said. A week after his assault and Loki had seemed to be on edge. It wasn’t entirely noticeable, but to Thor, who by now was familiar with the behaviors of Loki, it was obvious. He seemed quieter, more imprisoned in his own thoughts.

Many times Thor wished to ask what was haunting him, what was making him so disconcert? The behavior affected Thor wholly; he wanted Loki to be happy, to be content. But there were so many things probably plaguing his mind and Thor did not know what to ask, what to say. He said nothing of the words written on that tiny piece of paper. Neither of them did. But surely the words were fire in both of their minds.

What did it mean?

Did Loki know what it meant?

What was going to happen next?

So many questions, and the feeling of not knowing the answers was annoying. Thor wanted to rage, wanted to rise up with anger and strength. He wanted to smite whoever was responsible. He wanted to be angry, for Odin’s sake he _was_ angry. He was _furious._ But he knew this was not going to help anyone, especially not Loki.

He could do almost nothing.

Nothing, but this.

“Loki, lay against me.”

“Why?”

The man’s eyelashes flutter, the flicker of the candles casts shadows of them. Thor brings a finger up to hook Loki’s chin, pulling him in. A soft kiss on Loki’s lips, and then another. He pulls apart and says, “Trust me.”

Loki looks down as if trying to debate. Eventually, he turns, laying his naked body against Thor’s. Thor licks the back of Loki’s ear, bringing one hand to start rubbing Loki’s chest. Small circles, massaging away stress, he can feel Loki loosen, lay further back.

They lay there, Thor washing and softly massaging, an occasional bite or kiss on sensitive parts. Loki makes soft groans, his soft hands running up and down Thor’s thighs.

Slowly, they shave away pieces of themselves. Slowly, they fit against each other, making room between ribs and heart, making room for one another. Sun and moon, sapphire and emerald, gold and silver. Two souls, once lost, now together. It feels right.

“You can ask me, my king.”

Thor doesn’t respond too quickly, just brings his fingers to the groove of Loki’s hipbones. Slow circles, rose petals shift around them.

“Ask you what?”

Loki doesn’t move his body, only turns his neck to kiss Thor’s neck.

“About the paper. You can ask about the paper. You can ask about anything. I may not have an answer, but you may ask.”

He is opening himself open. Time and time again he does so, but each time it still knocks Thor off of his focus. _He trusts you. Make him believe he is right for doing so._

“Do you know why?”

Loki takes a couple of seconds to answer.

“No, I suppose I do not.” A sigh. “I know what you are, you slut, and soon your king will know too.” Hearing Loki say the words almost pushes Thor to rage again. Instead, he lets warm skin and quiet heartbeats to calm him. “I have slept with many men, my king.”

Thor bites his lip.  His hands stop moving, instead they grip Loki’s hips. He can feel the bone slice softly into his palm.

“Loki, those men forced you.”

“Yes. Maybe. But there were many things I could have done. I could have found some help. But I was too afraid. Too afraid of what would be thought of me. So I didn’t.” Loki lays his head back on Thor’s shoulder, his tiny breaths cooling Thor’s hot skin. “I could have run away. But I was too afraid of what was out there. I was too afraid of perishing somewhere alone and under the snow.”

“Loki-“

“I could have fought harder. But I was too afraid they would hurt me even more.”

“Loki, those men raped you. You did not sleep with them. They forced you, you have no reason to say these things.”

“I was a coward.”

He grips Loki tighter. “Loki you are the bravest man I have ever known. I do not jest, and I do not feed you words you wish to hear. I mean it. No one should have gone through what you did, but you fought and you survived.” He pulls Loki off of him, looks down into those colored green eyes. “We will get through this too. I swear it. I will let nothing harm you.”

Loki bites back something, something he wants to say, Thor can tell how much he wants to say it. But he doesn’t. His eyes rage but he doesn’t say it, just stares at Thor and nods.

The man leans in and catches Thor in a kiss, he presses his lips almost desperately. Thor pushes forward, licking the bottom of Loki’s lip, tasting him and asking for entrance. A part of his lips and he is sucking on Loki’s tongue, he is intoxicating. Every taste like a sip of wine, every kiss is a conquest on Thor’s control. Soft hands find Thor’s chest, he flexes the muscles and Loki moans. He runs his hands through Loki’s hair, the wet texture and smell of rose petals.

They break apart panting, Thor feeling the hunger inside of him Loki never fails to awaken but always succeeds in filling.

The whisper is soft, almost lost in their pants. “I am afraid, my king.”

“I am here.” Thor says in return, finger tracing the outline of Loki’s jaw.

“Am I a coward?”

“No. Never.”

Loki lifts his chin and Thor attaches his lips, sucking a bruise and then kissing it.

“Will you stay by my side?”

Thor straddles Loki onto his lap, Loki instinctively wraps his arms around Thor’s neck. Thor stands, carrying Loki, hands holding the bottom of his thighs. The water splashes and drips off their bodies, Loki’s skin a reddened color from the heat. Another claim on his throat.

“Always.”

They kiss and he carries Loki through the room and onto the bed. Loki collapses back on the mattress, his beautiful hair wet and fanned on the dark covers.

“Am I yours?” He whispers and the words run straight to Thor’s groin, blood pooling in the length hanging against his thigh.

Thor leans in and they kiss again, fierce and possessive.

Thor would do anything for this man. He realizes it at this moment, his tongue inside Loki’s mouth, his cock the thickest it has ever been, his heart pounding for this man.

“Always,” he pants.

“Prove it, my king.”

Thor smiles.

He would never let anything hurt this man.

He would burn his body to keep him warm. He would cut his knuckles to protect him. He would carry the sky for this man.

Where lightning strikes, thunder crashes.

No one can separate them.

“Certainly.”

 

* * *

 

Loki calms down after that night. Thor sees the way Loki relaxes, sees the relief in the man. He just needed proof that Thor cared, he needed reassurance. Thor promised protection and he was going to die keeping that promise.

They settle in a bubble of bliss for just a few more days. Making love and sharing kisses. Laughing together and living together. One being there for the other, a balancing act. Loki shows Thor his new training and he is impressed. Thor increases security and assigns Hogan to investigate. The guards who were on duty remember naught. The arrows used were just common arrows. Even the paper yielded no clues.

Everything is quiet and Thor is almost convinced that it will remain this way.

The archer does not show again but Thor never keeps his eyes closed. Loki is to never be alone and the castle is on higher alert. Thor doesn’t make mistakes, he tries his best. He covers his fear. The fear of Loki being lost, of Loki being hurt, of Loki being taken. Thor covers the fear to the best of his ability. It is small, very small, but he hides it anyways.

Another week and still nothing.

He lets himself relax for just a bit and then something catches him off guard. Another week and another piece of paper appears. Loki insists on going to the public library, seeking a book unavailable in the castle library. Thor refuses Loki’s request on going alone with some guards. He accompanies Loki.

Loki finds the book is looking for. He is beaming with happiness and Thor smiles at the rays. Loki opens the book and suddenly his face is pale white, eyes hysterically wide. The book drops and Thor is frantic to ask what is wrong. Loki points to the first page, fingers pale, face pale. Fear.

Thor picks up the book and reads the first page. A moment later and he is spinning Mjolnir, flying Loki to a safe place. The tiny fear that was once small and hidden in Thor’s brain – that fear manifests into something larger. They were being watched.

Whoever it was that was after Loki – he was watching them. He knew what book Loki wanted. He knew where Loki wanted it. He knew it before _they_ knew it. And that – that makes Thor nervous. Fearful almost.

Written on the first page, in the same script as the note on the arrow.

_‘I remember the way you moaned for me. The way your hole clenched around me. You think you have all of the men you let fuck you locked up. You think you have them all beneath your feet, but you are wrong. There is still one left. But you cannot imprison me simply because I did nothing wrong. You cannot imprison me because you moaned for me. You asked for me. You begged me. You beg for me just like you beg for your little king. And soon he will know. Know who you really are.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think? Trying to squeeze in some plot before the end. :)


	26. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter looks short .. but it actually has the same amount of words as usual. And I see many of you are guessing on who our enemy is. Sadly, I won't give it away. But I won't make it a big deal or anything. Thor and Loki have gone through enough, right? :D Anyways, I hope you enjoy :)

It seemed impossible – there was no way. How? How were those words written so neatly, as if they’d been there waiting for decades? How did they know? Loki had told no one except Thor about the book he wanted to find. It was impossible – and yet, the page in that book had identical script as the note on the arrow. There was no mistaking it, Loki remembered that font too well, he had read the note over and over. But how? How had they known to find that book in that library?

And the words ... the words. Loki read them only once but it was like a tattoo seared into his skull. Loki had never – he never asked, he never _begged_ for any of it. It was – it was repulsive, he would _never_ ask for something like that, let alone beg for it. The men beneath them in the prisons, as much as he hated to, Loki could achingly remember them. Never, never did he do such a thing. They always forced him, but he never said anything. Even when they forced pleasure in him, he never even made a sound. Afterall, resisting led to worse things.

He only ever asked two people to ever sleep with him. One was Thor and the other was–

“Loki.”

He looks up at his king, who seems to be the more upset of the two.

“Yes?” He says it softly, mind still plagued with thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

He nods and looks at the floor, his hair drifting in his face. “They are only words, my king.” Thor lets out a sigh and walks up to him, his fingers tuck Loki’s hair behind his ear. Loki looks up at the man and basks in the warm skin and blue eyes. A calloused palm holds his jaw and Thor leans in, presses their foreheads together. The moment is tender and they exchange breaths. Loki wraps his arms around Thor, feels the steeled muscle under Thor’s shirt. Thor exhales from the touch, kissing Loki softly on the lips. Loki leans in and returns the kiss, breathing in the intoxicating musk of Thor.

Loki wants to stay like this as long as he can. Nothing else mattered. He belonged here, in these arms, inside these walls, beside this man. Because he needs this safety, because the fear of being taken back into the world of his past – it’s petrifying. Thor has given him choice and freedom and nurture and kindness. To think about those things being stripped away again – it’s just too much.

They pull apart and Loki nuzzles his cheek against Thor’s, their embrace gentle. Thor’s hand smooths down Loki’s spine, notch after notch until resting on the crown of his butt. The hand slides down and grabs him possessively, finger ghosting between the cheeks.

“Are you afraid?”

He answers after a pause. “No.” Loki pulls away and sits by the window. “How could he have known?”

Thor follows him to the window ledge, staring outside. “I do not know. I told no one of the book.”

“Neither did I.”

“We will find whoever did this. He will not hurt you.” A pause. “Loki.”

He looks up at his king. His features bathed in Asgardian light, a look in his eyes that are reserved only for Loki. Something bad?

“What is it?”

“Hogun believes he has a lead. I am to leave with him and some soldiers to search.”

Loki stands, rests his hands on Thor’s strong chest. The man flexes the muscle and Loki grips softly. “You are leaving me here alone? Why can he not go by himself?”

“Because _I_ must be the one who catches this man. _I_ must be the man who faces this man. For threatening my pride – for threatening to harm-“

“Your _pride_? You are making this about your pride?” Loki feels anger begin to slowly fume in his system. He clenches his fists. His voice is low, taut, like a string on a bow. “Do you see me as nothing more than a trophy? A possession?”

“Loki-“ Thor looks startled, his brows furrowing, eyes giving Loki a warning.

When he starts, he cannot stop the words that flow out of his mouth. “What? The king cannot _possibly_ have his pride tainted now can he?” Thor reaches out and Loki takes a step back. “What am I to you really?” He is foolish for saying these things but he cannot stop himself. “Am I just a-“

“Loki!” Thor thunders, his voice reaching a level that isn’t often directed at Loki. Loki trembles just slightly, biting his cheek. Thor sees his mistake and lowers his voice. “I did not mean to yell. Let me explain.” Loki wants to pull and walk away, so he does. He turns from the man he needs because there is something _wrong_ with his head. He knows he needs Thor but still he turns effortlessly, walks away with confident steps that echo pain in his bones. It is stupid. Give a child a knife and he will play with it. Give Loki freedom and he will test it.

“Loki, stop.” Thor’s voice sounds impatient.

Loki continues.

“Do not walk away from me again. I mean it Loki. Do not walk from me again. I am not them. I am not those men, do not walk away from me.” His voice is stern, edging on anger.

Loki stops at that, heels rooted into the ground. Never has this man asked him for anything. Never has he demanded anything, never has he used his power as a savior, as a man, as a king. Now that he does, Loki knows that he must really want this.

_Stop fighting it Loki._

He turns, biting his silver tongue. When it moves, somehow it always hurts Thor. Bite and be silent.

Thor walks up to him almost hesitantly. He gets close but doesn’t touch, as if Loki’s skin would mess with his thinking.

“Why do you never believe me when I say you are everything to me? Why must you be so stubborn? Why do you refuse my words? Do you not believe you are capable of being my lover? Do you not believe I claim you as my only lover? If your mind is so insecure, then I will assure it each time it questions our relationship. You are no trophy. We have said it before. You are mine as I am yours.” His voice is soft like water, but his eyes – his eyes are so steeled.

Loki nods, swallowing.

“What I said before. When I say threaten my pride, I speak – “ Thor places gentle fingers, fingers that have been trained to be gentle, on his chin, lifting slowly. Thor leans in and kisses Loki on the lips, pushing further, not waiting before inserting his tongue in Loki’s mouth. He pulls out before Loki can even react. “I speak of you. You are my pride. And you are worth protecting. When I say I want to be the one who catches this man, I do it because he has threatened someone precious to me.”

Loki says nothing, and it’s absurd because Thor has said so many things that have swept Loki off of his feet. He has said so many things that leave Loki breathless even if there is air in his chest. He has said things that could melt any ice, any glacier still deep in the caverns of Loki’s soul.

The taste of Thor is tattooed on his tongue and he wants to breathe it in again. Seared into his skin, Thor’s touch. How can he have nothing to say when Thor has exposed so much of himself to Loki?

Loki bites his lip.

“I love you.” Twenty-six letters and these are the only words he can say. They only letters that truly embody his feelings.

Thor is shocked by the simple words, his eyes widen just slightly but Loki catches it. His lips part, his face softens almost immediately.

“Loki, I-“

“You do not have to return it. Just know that I do, and these are the only words I can find. You have given me so much I am afraid of what is left for yourself. I deny your words because I cannot believe someone so great as you could want someone like me.” Thor opens his mouth but Loki raises a palm. “I know now that that was foolish thinking. I am a greater man and you have helped me see this. I thank you, but more so – I love you.”

In the moment, Thor thrusts forward, pushing Loki against the nearest wall. Desperate lips find his and they are kissing fervently – passionately. Loki’s moans are lost in Thor’s, he pants loudly when the man hooks his lips on Loki’s neck. Biting and sucking. Hands fumble and unravel their bottoms, Thor’s lips never leave his skin.

They move quickly but Loki can feel every single thing in slow motion. He cherishes each feeling, each texture, each emotion. He opens himself entirely and still Thor never takes anything for himself. If he has ever wondered what love is – well the answer is this.

Their clothes pool around their ankles, naked skin on naked skin. A large hand wraps around Loki’s hardened cock, it tugs up and down, twisting at the head. Loki arches into the touch, senses blurred, pleasure swimming through him. Thor pulls his thick cock upright from against his thigh and grinds it against Loki’s length. They both moan from the heated contact, Loki’s hand clutching Thor like he is the only thing holding him onto Asgard. Thor’s large hand wrap around both of their cocks and he begins to jack them. Precum from both lengths slicken his palm and Loki knows they both will not last.

They are kissing again, Thor’s other hand swipes precum and inserts a finger into Loki’s hole. The pleasure is too much – he is nothing but a moaning mess. The heat and the passion and – the love is pure and fire between them. Each time they have made love and each time it’s even more passionate – even more pleasurable.

Another finger inside of him and he is coming, ropes of white falling on Thor’s fist.

The other man follows like a heartbeat, his cum shooting up and coating both of their chests.

“Say it to me again.”

“Thor?”

“Please? Say it.”

Loki pants, kissing Thor’s earlobe. “I love you.”

 

 


	27. Sheets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys remember when I warned you about terrible plot writing? Well this chapter is plagued with that. Please bear with me :)

“How are you fairing?” Fandral grins wide at Loki, blinking his eyes innocently. He flicks the curl of his hair out of his face and bows slightly, one arm behind his back.

Loki rolls his eyes, turning back to the sketchbook in front of him. A few smooth glides on the paper and he answers. “I am fine, just like the last ten times you have asked me tonight.”

“I am just doing my duty”

Loki scoffs and continues to sketch idly in the book. “And why is it the king made _you_ my personal guard?”

The blonde walks up and sits across the table from Loki. “You say that as if it displeases you.”

“Maybe it does.”

“Surely you do not mean that. You adore me.”

“Yes, continue telling yourself that.”

They sit in silence after that, Fandral aware of the tension clouding Loki’s thoughts. Thor had left only hours ago, chasing some lead in the middle of nowhere. It had only been hours ago and yet Loki has never felt so wary. Almost as if some impending danger is approaching, he cannot shake off the feeling.

Fandral lets out a soft sigh. “Loki.”

He absently replies, fingers holding the pen tighter. “What is it?”

“Loki, look at me.”

He refuses, continuing to draw the same picture he has drawn on the past twenty seven sheets.

Fandral reaches a hand over and rests it on Loki’s drawing hand, holding it still. Loki looks up at the blonde with furrowed brows.

“Fandral what are you –“

“You are afraid.” The man looks at Loki with an unreadable look, but he holds Loki’s hand tighter, warmth connecting them. “I am not sure of what exactly, but you are afraid. It is okay to be afraid Loki. I am saying you are _allowed_ to be afraid.”

Loki scoffs, looking down at the drawing of Thor. It isn’t of his beautiful smile or flowing hair, it isn’t even of him in regalia. It’s of him in his armor, coming home from a battle. Traces of dirt smudged on his face, his arms strong and muscled. The armor has scratches but not too many. Mjolnir in one hand, cape flowing behind him. Hair tied in a warriors braid, eyes only having fire in them. Some cuts on his arms, some bruises elsewhere. He wasn’t perfect, but he always won.

“Ever since I was brought here there was not a moment where I was this afraid. Thor would always be there to calm my fears, even if they were trivial. He has done everything for me. He has wept for me, he has fought for me, he has bled for me. I feel invincible. I no longer have to be afraid. And yet, I am.”

Fandral tightens his grip, Loki turns his hand over to accept the hold.

“He will come back.”

“No, I know that. I know he will come back. He promised me he would.”

Fandral frowns in confusion. “Then what do you fear?”

Loki looks at Fandral and offers a weak grin. “I know he will come back. I just fear what he brings with him.”

Fandral looks as if he is choosing his next words carefully. He opens his mouth and then closes it, letting out a sigh. He lets go of Loki’s hand and crosses his arms, eyes changing from neutral to charged. “Do you remember the morning after the victory feast?”

Loki attempts to imagine where Fandral is headed with this conversation, but answers anyways. “Yes. After my fight with Thor.”

“Do you remember what we spoke of that morning? The incident you spoke to me about?”

The incident? Loki frowns, fingers nervously tapping the pen against the table. Of course he remembered. He remembered every night before he went to sleep – every night before Thor would hold him and erase the memory. He remembered it every morning after waking up from the same nightmare – just before Thor would kiss him and banish the thought. Of course he remembered the incident that ruined his life.

“Do you remember him? The swine who hurt you?”

Loki bites his lip.

How many aching days did it take before Loki successfully erased that memory? How long did it take before his mind couldn’t take it anymore? Before it forcefully blurred out that face that smiled as it ripped him apart. Those teeth that sank into his skin and sucked blood and bruise? Those hands that forced him to stay still as he was ravaged? Those lips that kissed him and told him how tight he was?

How many sleepless nights and wakeless mornings did it take before that part of his memory was selectively forgotten?

His body’s way of protecting itself. Forget what has made you meaningless. Forget what has hurt you to the point where you cannot feel anymore.

How selfish, his body was. Why didn’t it take away the nightmares too? Or the ghost of whispers? Why just the face of the man? Why just the sound of his voice? Just the smell of his skin? The touch of his flesh? The taste of his tongue? Why not take away everything?

Why leave the worst parts?

“No.”

Fandral insists. “Nothing?”

Loki lets out a sigh, staring off to middle space. “I spent a long time trying to forget him.”

The next few words seem to pain Fandral, he looks away and says them. “Can you – can you try to remember him?”

Loki stands looking at Fandral with sudden abhorrence. “Why would you ask me to do that?”

“Think about it. He is the only man who we did not catch. He can be the only one leaving the notes.”

Loki drops his expression.

It was simple. A simple equation. Take every man he has slept with and you get Thor, the men in the prison, and .. and his first. It was a simple deduction, really. One that did not require any thinking at all.

“But why?”

“Loki?”

“What reason would he have? I did not even know him. He did not know me. I was nothing more than an easy lay for him. What reason would he have to hurt me now?”

Fandral looks down at the floor, thinking.

“You said – you said he was from the inner kingdom?”

Loki furrows his brows, running a hand through his hair. “Yes. He would have to be in order to know of the king and I.”

“No.” Fandral shakes his head, a fist holding his chin in thought. “No.”

“What?”

Fandral looks at him with wary eyes. “No, he would have to be in the castle.”

Loki feels his heart race. Things fall into places, things slot into reality. “He would have to be from the castle .. to know of the king and I. Meaning he is .. here ..  He is here now. He has been here. He has been watching us all along.”

There is a sudden fear that trickles down Loki’s spine. A slow poison spreading through his veins. Paranoia is what it is – suffocating and cold. There were – there were too many men to guess. It could be anyone, anywhere.

“But that doesn’t explain how he would know where to leave the notes.”

“He must be following you, someone close.”

Breathing becomes difficult at that point. Air comes in at short pulls, his palms begin to sweat. Anxiety and panic flood his body, uneven curtains of air flow into unsteady lungs.

Too many – too many people. Who can he - who can he trust? Thor. He can only trust Thor. Thor isn’t here. Who will protect him? Hogun? No he is with Thor. Fandral? Yes, of course, Fandral. Fandral will protect him. Fandral? Can he trust Fandral? Of course he can – Fandral has always been here for him. Soothing him, holding him, .. loving him? Yes, loving him. Fandral is good. Fandral knows what books Loki likes to read. He knows the libraries he likes to read at. Fandral knows where he likes to spend his days. He knows everything. He is good.

He knows .. everything. Fandral? Fandral?

Fandral steps forward, reaching out. “Loki-“

Loki instinctively steps back. His mind a storm, unable to decipher between right and wrong. Good and bad.

Fandral’s face saddens, hurt rippling in his eyes.

“Loki – Loki it is me. Fandral. You can trust me.”

His breathing is still unsteady, he bites his lip. “You know. You know what books I like to read. You know what libraries I go to.”

Fandral’s face seems to break even more, the pain is genuine, almost palpable, Loki knows this but he continues anyways.

“Loki, please. I would never hurt you.” Fandral’s voice is soft – broken.

“I – I do not .. I do not know what to think. You are the only one who knows these things. I cannot think of anyone else Fandral. Why is that?” By now he is saying whatever his fears tell him to say. Words and breaths both unsteady – thoughts, heartbeat – what? What? Fandral? Breathe. Breathe.

“Loki you are afraid. Please, think rationally. I would never hurt you.”

Fandral steps forward and Loki steps back quickly.

“No! Stop. I – I need to think. I need to go. I need to be alone. Please. Do not come find me.”

With that, Loki flees.

 

* * *

 

Loki sits in the king’s bed, it is the closest he can get to the feeling of safety.

The feeling of being watched is intense, even though he knows he is safe in this room. He was stuck in a bubble of either bliss or denial – otherwise he would have figured it out much sooner. It was someone in the castle.

The first person Loki thinks of is Admiral Ghran. He seemed to warrant caution. Mysterious and interested. There was something about the man that gave Loki a strange vibe, even if the man had only encountered Loki thrice before. He was bold, but he also seemed to give up on his flirtatious advances after Loki denied him. Also, the night Loki was targeted by the arrows, the Admiral was in another realm, battling with Thor.

Could it be someone else on the fleet? A general? Lieutenant? Loki had met many of them after Thor gave him the cape. They could all have reason to target Loki. Gain higher status maybe? Jealousy?

It could be any of the council members, Loki had met them as well. Maybe they thought Loki’s relationship with Thor was bad for the kingdom? Maybe they wanted to get rid of some low life scum from their king?

A servant? A guard? A doctor? A soldier?

Loki stands and reaches for his sketch book on the nightstand and tossing it as hard as he can. He lets out a scream –frustration pumping through his veins.

There are two rapid knocks on the golden doors and then they open. One of his guards enters after bowing quickly.

“Your royalty, is everything alright?”

Loki lets out a sigh. Before he can reply, there are another two knocks on the door. Loki’s other guard rushes in. “The king has returned. He desires your presence in the private gardens.”

Loki is on his feet in an instant, heart pounding in his chest.

His king was back.

 

* * *

 

His two guards have to walk quick to follow him as he rushes towards the gardens. He is both anxious and relieved. Relieved because his Thor is finally here. Anxious because of what he brings with him.

He pushes the thoughts away and runs out the corridor, stumbling out to the private gardens. He is panting quietly as he gets there, walking up to the center, eyes looking for his king.

The two guards catch up, they also pant quietly.

Loki looks around to see that the garden is empty, only darkness and dim lights.

The night is quiet – ominous.

There is something different.

He breathes through his nose so he can hear.

Quiet. Quiet.

“Where – where is the king?” He says aloud.

His guard does not reply.

A loud clatter of armor echoes.

Then, a muted grunt.

Loki turns around and gasps loudly.

Blood.

Blood.

One of his guards has pulled out his sword – sliced it across the other guard’s throat.

The dying guard collapses on the ground, blood pouring out of his neck, his eyes wide open as the life empties.

Loki looks up at the standing guard, who keeps a neutral facial expression.

“What - what are you doing!”

Footsteps echo from behind the guard. Then, a voice.

“Why, he is doing what I asked him too. He is doing what I have _always_ asked him to do, little snow.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too many of you guys guessed correctly :'( this is why I write romance and not mystery, LOL!
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you think! I have a .. difficult chapter upcoming :)


	28. Petals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise chapter due to the many requests to update asap! So I sat down a couple of days ago and decided to write. By the time I was done, I realized that I wrote nearly six chapters. Anyways, since I'm off from university, and I have plenty of free time, I decided to just post chapters more frequently, so maybe twice a week or so instead of once every week. You'll be hearing from me more often!
> 
> Hope you like the chap.

“He has been my spy for a very long time now, even before you came into the picture. He listens to all of your conversations with the king and refers them back to me.” The man steps out onto the gardens, his hands casually held behind is back. He looks as he always does. Dark hair smoothed backwards, silver-grey eyes, perfectly straight smile. So beautiful that it is sinister.

The man grins. “He told me about your trip to the library. He told me about the conversation about the book you wanted to read. He tells me everything. He works for me. Just like the archer I ordered to shoot you on the same day I happened to be off of Asgard. Just like the library servant I ordered to write notes and leave them places.”

“Admiral..” Loki stands there – taking it all in. It was too much – too much to handle.

“Now now, Snow. How many times have I told you to call me Alrik.”

The man walks past the guard and the body, bypassing the growing puddle of blood. He stops a few feet away from Loki, lips upturned in a white smile.

Loki swallows, taking a subtle step back. There is nothing he can say. Fear clogs his throat, shrinks his veins, stains his judgement. He is so petrified he can barely move. Things attempt to arrange themselves inside his mind but to no success.

It was him.

It was Alrik.

“I thought it was strange.” The man says, walking over to a bush, his fingers gently handling some flowers. “How you did not recognize me.”

Loki feels himself shudder, he tries to shrink in himself. All he can do is stand there and listen. His bones won’t listen. His muscles won’t listen. He is a prisoner to his own skeleton. His mind half listening to Alrik, half slipping to the night of his first.

Alrik continues speaking, not sparing Loki a glance. “Afterall, was I not your first? Was I not the first to take you? Surely you cannot forget someone so important? I thought maybe you were putting up an act. So I confronted you – at the library, but still, you did not recognize me. Not many people who sleep with me forget this face.”

Loki wants to scream ‘ _I did not sleep with you. You forced me.’_ But even his lips are stone.

“So I thought maybe, maybe you were not the same hungry and poor toy. But that was impossible, because I had heard about you. Heard where you were found, heard of your story. And I knew it was you. Those eyes and that skin and those lips. I would not forget someone so delicious. You were all better, nice clothes and clean skin sitting right on the king’s cock. No worries. Not the same rentboy begging for some coins.”

Alrik plucks a flower. His hands strong but soft against the petals. “The strange thing was .. I wanted you to remember me. I wanted you to remember the man who changed your life – the man who got you here, got you your nice little king.” He starts plucking the petals, one by one.

One. The petal is discarded onto the floor, torn at the edges. “I wanted you to remember how you found me that night.” Three. “Staring at me from across the pub. You were afraid, but your eyes were hungry, just like your stomach was.” Six. “Some coins, a couple of drinks  and you were practically begging for me.” Ten. “You were so hungry you let me take you. I wanted you to remember how much you wanted me.” Thirteen. “I wanted you to remember how I ripped your clothes off, how I tasted in your mouth.” Seventeen. “You fought and said no but a deal’s a deal. I was going to get my money’s worth.” Twenty-one. “You tried to fight but once I was inside you, you were a mewling, moaning mess.” Twenty-four. “I wanted you to remember that. Remember that from my cock, you became the king’s toy. I did that for you.” Twenty-six. “Without me, you would have never started selling your body, would have never screamed that night, would have never been found by Thor.”

Twenty-eight. He drops the stem on the floor, turning to look at Loki. By now, Loki is a quivering mess. The memories have flooded back and hit him all at once. Now, out of all times, he remembers. Bits and pieces, blurs becoming clear, black and white becoming red skin and blue bruises.

Alrik approaches him but Loki cannot move. Cannot speak. His body belongs to this man, just like it was that night.

He stops when they are an inch apart. Gentle fingers find his chin. Gentle fingers. Was Loki like that flower? Ready to be plucked and plucked until nothing was left?

“Do you remember now?” He whispers. “How good I felt inside you?”

The man leans in and kisses Loki behind Loki’s ear. _Thor’s_ spot. He licks at it softly, making his way down to Loki’s throat. Kissing, sucking, nipping. His tongue is slow in licking stripes up, biting and claiming different spots on his neck. A hand travels down to his butt and gropes him harshly, another riding up his shirt. Loki shivers, pulls away but is backed into the center tree. The touch feels toxic, it feels like fire – like poison, like it is actually killing him. Like the man is physically sucking away the air in his lungs. Teeth sharp, bruises hurting – he wants to run, he wants to fight. But the fear is so dense he can’t even _breathe_.

_You are stronger than this, Loki._

_Has Thor shown you nothing?_

Loki remembers what Sif taught him, finding strength in his bones. He backs away, thrusting is knee up to the man’s groin, using his elbow and body weight to crash into the man’s ribs. Alrik lets out a grunt of pain, throwing his arms to grab Loki. Loki twists around and butts his head into the man’s face.

Alrik backs away, clutching his nose. “You filthy ..” he spits blood onto the ground, pulling his hand away from his mouth. “You know, I was going to give you the gift of my cock before letting you go, but even a whore like you does not deserve it.”

Loki frowns, feeling his blood pump quickly through his body. “What do you want from me,” he spits out, feeling courage trace through him. “I told you, my heart belongs to someone else.”

Alrik gives him an incredulous look before bursting into laughter.  One hand clutches his stomach as he laughs loudly, eyes closed. After a while he stops, wiping tears from his eyes. He lets out a sigh. “You really think .. you really think _I_ want _you?_ This has never been about _you,_ you stupid slut.” In that moment, Alrik seems to change into another person. He grins, a smile so sinister Loki feels his blood run cold. His eyes are so silver they almost resemble steel – sharp and ready to slice.

“You think I – what? Fell in love with you from first glance? That I was jealous and wanted you all to myself? That I desired your used out hole? Do not make me laugh. You are a pawn.”

Loki shakes his head. “Then – then why?”

Alrik scoffs, pacing in a small circle. “I watched the king grow up. He – he had whatever he pleased. Our king – his birthright. Took whatever he wanted from whomever he pleased. A spoiled brat. He did not have to work for a single thing – everything just fallen into his lap. All because of his father and mother. It was unfair. I who had to work my way up to who I am. I who had no royal father or mother to give me whatever I please. I who had to give parts of me away in order to be looked at. I who had to work in order to be Admiral, in order to have power. And after all that I still am beneath his _majesty._ All he had to do was breathe. Breathe and whatever he wanted – he got. Women, riches, power. What makes him better than me? Nothing. Nothing but the blood in his veins. I am better. I am ultimate. I deserve the power.”

A silence. The man is no longer smiling. A frown streaked across his face, eyes suddenly dark. This side of him is much for terrifying.

“I could not have it. There was no way. No way to get to him.” He looks at Loki. “Not until you showed. You are right. Your heart belongs to him, just as his heart belongs to you. He needs you – he would do anything for you. Even follow a false lead that I ordered. He would bleed and battle for you. He would do anything for your love.”

“I will not hurt him.”

The man nods his head. “Supposing that I gave you a choice, no you would not. But I am not giving you a choice. Even if I asked you to hurt our king, there would be no way to do it. Because the only thing you love in this world is him. So I will not make you hurt him.” He approaches Loki again. This time, he is vigilant. Loki will not be able to best him in battle, not the Admiral of the Fleet. He can only hold his ground.

“You will do the next worse. You will break his heart. You will steal some gold, you will write a note saying you were using him all along, just like you used the other men who you let fuck you for gold. You will run and never look back. You will break him.”

“This will get you nothing.” Loki bites, chest heaving in anger.

Alrik leans in, their faces inches apart. He leans in and kisses Loki on the lips. Loki backs away turning his head to the side.

“No it will not get me the power I want. But it will break the king, and I guess that is all I desire.” He grabs Loki’s face again, kissing him, squeezing his face and inserting his tongue. Loki pulls away, gasping.

“I will not do it.”

“You mistaken me again. I give you no choice.”

“You said it before. You have nothing to use against me.”

Rough fingers grab his chin – this time they no longer handle him like a flower. He is pulled to face the man, his eyes angry and unrelenting. “I have everything against you. I can kill you right now. Watch his majesty’s face as he finds you dead. I can say we were too late, the mysterious man got to you first. Your _guards_ could not protect you. One of them will approve of my story.” He leans in, his other hand grabbing Loki roughly at the hip. He mouths at Loki’s throat again, sucking another bruise. “I can fuck you and make you beg for me. Watch his majesty’s face as he finds you betraying him in the worst possible way.” He pulls back, eyes still bold. “I can torture you in front of him, make him watch as I hurt you. Make him beg and grovel. Make him give me anything I desire.” The hand holding his chin digs into his hair, pulling it. “I can tell him I was the first you slept with. And after you found out I was in this castle, you continued to come to me and fuck me, behind his back. I assure you there will be many servants and guards who will back up my words.”

 He releases both grips, stepping back. “I can do so many things, Snow. But I am offering you the easy way out. What will your choice be?”

_This man is not lying._

_He will kill me._

_He will do these many things he says._

_He will do them._

_He is not lying._

_He is so hungry that he will do anything to sate himself._

_What do I do._

_Thor, what do I do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Just a lovely reminder that I have no clue what I'm doing. Please spare me* 
> 
> Love you all! Love reading such great comments :) They really push me to write more and post more.


	29. Sentences

The lead turns out to be nothing – Hogun apologizes enough times, saying he was so sure. Thor forgives him of course, after all it is not his fault. He forgives Hogun and he forgives the soldiers who also feel like it is their faults. He calls them foolish and thanks them for their work.

It is ridiculous – to blame anyone for what is happening. But Thor feels so responsible for Loki’s safety. He feels guilty for not being able to protect him, afterall he has never loved anyone more than he does Loki. How can he not be able to protect that person? How can he not be able to save him from danger? Is that not his job? To protect the man he loves? The king of Asgard cannot protect the love of his life? It is ridiculous, it is preposterous. It makes him angry, angry at himself, angry at the man trying to hurt Loki, angry at everything.

He lets out a sigh, anxious to see Loki – to let him talk some sense into him, to calm him down.

When he arrives at the castle, the first person he sees is Fandral. The man is running out the castle frantically. Upon seeing Thor, he quickens his pace. Fandral reaches him with wide eyes, Thor can see fear – fear and worry in them. He looks flustered, panting and nervously biting his lip.

“M-my king.” His voice is shaky, and it gives Thor an uneasy feeling.

Thor reaches out his hands and places them on Fandral’s arms, holding him steady. “Fandral, what is wrong?”

The blonde opens his mouth, it quivers just slightly. Nothing comes out. It looks like he wants to say something but he does not know how. Thor has never seen him so afraid before. Fandral, who always says what is on his mind, who never fears. That Fandral, too afraid to speak?

Thor feels something cold swim through his blood.

Thor gives him a gentle shake. “Brother, speak. What is wrong?”

“It is – it is Loki.” He whispers so softly, afraid of something. “He is gone.” That’s when Thor hears it. Guilt.

Thor feels his heart drop, fear plummeting into every crevasse of his bones. His eyes widen, a thousand thoughts darting through his head. _Gone?_ He grips Fandral tighter, brows furrowing in confusion.

“What do you mean gone?” The coldness becomes ice inside his veins – seizing control of his muscles, freezing him inside out. It does not make sense, it does not make sense at all.

Fandral does not reply, his mouth hanging open, but the fear freezes him.

“I –“

“Fandral!” Thor shouts.

“The gardens –“

Thor runs, ignoring the rest of Fandral’s words. He can hear Fandral shouting after him, following him. Telling him to stop. But he runs faster.

Did something happen to Loki? Did he – did he get taken? Did Thor fail _again?_ Was Loki taken right from his arms? Right from under Thor’s own roof? Was he hurt? The thought of Loki being hurt – being taken, it is terrifying. Never has he been so afraid before. It is like he has been given the world just for it to be taken away. He wants nothing more than for Loki to be safe – to be here, in his arms. To be safe, to be unharmed, because he has already gone through too much pain and suffering for one lifetime. He does not deserve to be hurt again, he never deserves to be hurt. He promised to never let Loki get hurt again. He promised to protect him.

By the time he reaches the gardens, he is sweating from the fear. Blood is pounding in his ear, his knuckles white from being clenched so tight. He shoves through a few guards, who bow upon seeing him enter.

He rushes through, stopping when he sees the view in front of him.

Both of Loki’s guards on the floor, pools of blood around them. One guard has two healers surrounding him, the other is alone near a bush of roses. At that moment, the fear begins to intoxicate his judgement. All he can think about is Loki, somewhere, bleeding and hurt. All he can imagine is some man slashing these two guards and then taking Loki somewhere, hurting him.

He rushes to the first guard, kneeling to check his body. It is cold, lifeless, the blood around him has long been there. His throat is slashed, his blade still in its sheath. Thor brings his palm over the man’s eyes, closing them.

He stands and walks over to the other guard, the healers nodding their heads at him. One stands and speaks to him in a hushed tone.

“My king. He has very little time, we cannot heal him.”

Thor feels his heart pain, nodding. “I understand. Leave us.” The other healer raises, both bowing before leaving. Thor kneels to the body, taking one head to elevate the guard’s head. The man looks up at Thor with defeat in his eyes. His body is pale, a cloth wrapped around a bleeding stomach. His sword lays beside him, blood on the side.

“Tell me what happened.” He says softly, taking one hand to rest it on the guard’s chest.

There is a moment of hesitance – a moment of silence. The guard speaks after gathering strength, his voice is weakened. “I am sorry – my king. I – I did not know – what to do.” Thor can almost feel the life emptying out of this man, he bites his cheek.

“It is okay.”

The man shakes his head. “Loki – he – he took my –“ The man pauses, but not from weakness. From fear.

“Tell me. Do not fear.”

The guard nods weakly, the blood on his chin is so stark against his pale skin. “He took my sword. And he – he killed – he killed ..” The guard raises a weak finger, pointing at the other guard.

Thor feels his heart drop.

_What?_

“He .. he what?”

The guard does not stop. He seems to well up all of his strength. “Then he – he stabbed me – and he ran. I – I am so sorry my king. For – forgive –“

“Shh, shh. It is okay. You have done well.”

The guard smiles softly, before his head lolls to the side. Gone.

 

* * *

 

The confusion is immobilizing. His mind is as if wrecked by the worst of storms. It is impossible to make sense of anything. He tells the few guards in the gardens to make sure the bodies are properly taken care of. After that he flees, too many thoughts tearing through his mind.

Why? Why would Loki kill his two guards? From where did he learn to wield a sword? And why would he run? Where did he go? Why did he leave? Why? Why? Why?

He makes down the hallways with weakened bones, mind wandering, heart at battle.

It takes him a few seconds to realize that Fandral is gently calling his name beside him.

He looks up at the blonde, who has seemed to collect himself. “My king. I wish to speak with you privately.” His voice is still a little timid, but there is something important in his eyes, something urgent in his words.

Thor nods slowly, mentally exhausted. He walks with Fandral down the corridor and into his room, locking the door behind him. He looks at the room and it is almost identical as it was before Thor left. Except now – there is no Loki. He walks up to the bed, taking in the rustled furs and fabrics. The pillows tossed aside as if someone was quick to leave the bed. Thor takes a hand and rests it on Loki’s side of the bed. It is cold.

“My king.”

Thor does not look up from the spot. “Yes.”

“I – I found a letter, at the gardens. I took it before anyone could see. It – it is important you read it.”

Thor looks up quickly, heart hoping for some sort of message. A reason why Loki had to do what he did. Or maybe a denial, that it is not what it seems. Something. Anything.

“Where?”

Fandral nervously pulls out a rolled piece of paper, his hands tremble upon handing it to Thor.

Thor opens it quickly, reading it.

_My king,_

_You were wrong about me. I am no different than the man you found in that alley. I am sorry to tell you this. I am still the same. Still the same hungry whore who only cares for himself. You should have not rescued me that night, I know you shall regret it for the rest of your life._

_By now, you have realized that I have left you. It was my goal from the beginning. I killed both of my guards in the place you loved me most. Their blood on my favorite flowers, what is left of us will wilt. I have taken enough money to pay for the services I provided to you. I hope you enjoyed my body the way I will enjoy the fortune._

_I know you well. This will hurt you. This might even kill you. You loved me too much. I will not apologize for that. I applaud you for attempting to make me better than who I am. In truth, I almost believed you. But what is different from you and I, is that you have heart and I do not. You loved me, but I did not love you. Even the bottom of the ocean never receives light._

_I have not committed a crime, think of this as a transaction. I did not steal, I merely took what you paid for. So do not look for me. You have no right. Do not go to the place you found me. I will not be there. You will never see me again, even if you climb to the highest mountain, I will be far from your eyes._

_The snow never melts, forget me._

_Yours truly,_

_Loki._

He is crying. The font is Loki’s handwriting, there is no denying it. Thor knows exactly the way he writes, he knows the scripts, he knows the slight slant of his letters. He even recognizes the prose, the way the words are written. They are beautiful, truly eloquent. A tear drops on the paper, smudging some of the ink.

He is angry at himself for ruining something so beautiful. For ruining the last piece of Loki. He wipes the tear away, slumping on the floor. He gingerly pulls the piece of paper in front of him, so he does not cry on it again. He reads the words over. The beautiful script and beautiful words. He reads it again. All twenty-nine sentences.

Was he not worth more than twenty-nine sentences?

He cannot believe the words – he cannot. They must be a lie.

But it is his script – his handwriting. His words. It is him.

In the back of his head, he remembers Loki saying he would stay by Thor’s side. Was that a lie too?

The snow never melts.

He is gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, my writing is too easily predictable, sorry for lack of thrill :(. I do have some somewhat crazy chapters upcoming .. hopefully they'll be better.
> 
> Hope everyone had a safe NY's :)


	30. Drinks

Thor spends a week in solitude.

Not that he knows it – the rise of day and fall of night blend together under his disconcert.

He splits his duties equally with his mother and Admiral Ghran, whom both accept without a question.

He tells no one of Loki. He tells no one of the letter. Only Fandral is aware. But even he, Thor ignores.

Sadness is not a large enough word to carry the weight in Thor’s heart. Misery cannot fully describe the feeling inside his bones. The king of Asgard has let his own heart defeat him.

He reads the letter so thoroughly he can repeat it without looking. The words sound so much like Loki, poetry stitched together with cruel words. They sound like something  Loki would say. They sound real. And Thor cannot help but think that the words are indeed .. true. That the letter is true. That everything that has happened for the past months have been all lies. Everything.

Thor goes through each and every memory of Loki. He forces himself to try and remember every single moment they have spent together. Trying to remember Loki’s face. Loki’s words. Loki’s voice. Loki’s eyes. Were they all lies? Did he truly not enjoy those moments? Was it all a game? All a lie? A betrayal?

Thor does not want to believe it – how can he? The past few months have been the best of his life.

But the letter – it is clearly in Loki’s hand writing. The words, the voices – they belong to Loki.

So what else can it be, besides truth?

It all felt so real, so so real. The kisses, the embraces, the nights, the days, the tears, the words, the touches, the sex. It felt so real, realer than anything Thor has ever experienced. Had Loki only wanted gold?

Thor spends those days going through every possible scenario. Every scenario of – of them. Of Loki.

He thinks that maybe when Loki was rescued, he was truly scared. Maybe he saw the castle, the riches, the services, maybe he saw these things and thought that he could survive here. So he stayed. Maybe it was because of the gold at first.

But then .. but then he had to fall for Thor. He _had_ to feel something. Hadn’t he? And maybe – maybe he could not take it anymore. Maybe he fell back to his original motives. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he just wanted the gold.

Or maybe he never fell in love in the first place. An elaborate act. Trying to convince Thor to sleep with him more and more. Maybe making Thor fall in love with him so that he could sleep with him more and more. More sex meant more gold.

_You were wrong about me. I am no different than the man you found in that alley. I am sorry to tell you this. I am still the same. Still the same hungry whore who only cares for himself._

No. _No._ No.

Loki was _not_ a whore. He would never do that to Thor.

At least .. not the Loki Thor knew.

The Loki he knew would never do that. The Loki he knew woke up screaming from nightmares of other men hurting him. Were those lies too? Were they even real nightmares? Or fake? No – they were too genuine. So maybe he was afraid? Or maybe his mind was so wired to pleasing other men that he had to do it with Thor too?

No. _No!_ He did _not_ sleep with Thor for money. Thor would not accept that, no matter how real the words sounded.

_By now, you have realized that I have left you. It was my goal from the beginning. I killed both of my guards in the place I loved you most. Their blood on my favorite flowers, what is left of us will wilt._

The guard – the guard told Thor himself that Loki had stabbed him. A servant confirmed that he did see Loki lead his guards into the private gardens. Another servant confirmed he saw a hooded man leaving the castle with a heavy bag.

The points added up, but Thor could not bring himself to believe it. His heart was broken. He felt so betrayed, so used. How could Loki do such a thing? How could he? When the kisses felt so raw, so real. When the tears Thor spent time wiping away felt so genuine? When the words and the moments shared felt so actual? The bed still smells of Loki but it is slowly diffusing away. The candles they lit are slowly melting away. He even left his cape behind. The red fabric left dejectedly on the bed, now tucked safely under Thor’s armor.

_I know you well. This will hurt you. This might even kill you. You loved me too much. I will not apologize for that._

Hurt? This feeling had to be worse than death. He loved Loki more than he loved himself. Is that a sin? Is that a crime? Why does Loki make it sound like so?  Were their nights of passion only passionate for Thor? Had Loki said he loved Thor only in his moments of weakness? When he knew they would confuse Thor? Weaken him? Hurt him?

_You loved me, but I did not love you._

Is it possible?

_I have not committed a crime. Think of this as a transaction. I did not steal, I merely took what you paid for. So do not look for me. You have no right._

Their love was a transaction? Was Thor really only blinded by his heart? Did he not see the big picture? Was it all false? Was Thor too blind to realize it all?

_You will never see me again, even if you climb to the highest mountain, I will be far from your eyes._

What did that even mean?

_The snow never melts, forget me._

Did he think Thor a fool? How could he forget the man who wrote his name on every corner of his bones? How could he forget the man who hollowed out his chest just to listen to the echo of his heart? The man who weaved a dreamcatcher out of his heartstrings and his nightmares? The man who made himself a part of him?

How could he forget Loki, when forgetting Loki meant forgetting himself?

 

* * *

 

Two footsteps alert him of a new presence. After yet another week in solitude, he finally leaves his room to come here. He stands on the balcony of the throne room, staring off in the distance, maybe trying to imagine where Loki had gone. Maybe trying to remember what Loki smelled like, mixed with Asgardian wind. Had it not been only weeks since Loki stood here, next to him, breathing in such lovely air?

“Who is it?”

The sound of armor and footsteps tell him the man is kneeling. “Admiral Ghran, my king.”

Thor nods. “Stand.”

He turns to face the man. “Update me.”

Alrik smiles, nodding. “The realms are calm. There are a few disturbances in Jotunheim, but I have sent a few men to see to it. There is not a large concern. The midgardian realm has raised a small concern but we are awaiting further information.”

Thor nods, feeling empty. “I understand.” Thor looks down at Alrik’s feet, hands behind his back. “I want to extend my gratitude to you, Alrik.”

The man makes a small startled sound. “My king, there is no need to thank me. It is an honor to help bring peace to the realms when you are unfit to do so yourself. I would help you whenever you ask.”

Thor feels pain in the admiral’s sharp words. But it is not like he can deny so. He is truly unfit to act upon the peace of any realm in the condition he is in.

“Are you – are you fairing well, my king? I apologize for asking – I just - I truly care for your wellbeing.”

Thor lets out a sigh. “I am – I will be fine in time.”

The man does not ask about Loki, although it is fairly obvious that the man has been missing for two weeks now. It is also painfully obvious that this is the reason Thor is acting this way. Still, Alrik does not ask about it. Thor is grateful for his discretion.

“Maybe – maybe you would to join me for some drinks. I think it may help you relax.”

Thor wants to deny immediately. Because the last time he drank – he hurt Loki. It takes only a second to realize that he no longer has to fear that. Loki is gone.

His heart is so empty and hurt – thinking of Loki constantly. The idea of drinking until he forgets is appealing. He looks up at the Admiral, who is smiling with a crooked grin.

“I accept your offer.”

 

* * *

 

He drinks until his stomach is full of mead, his bones are weak, and his mind is hazy. He barely remembers competing – to see who can drink more. He victors at thirty goblets of mead. After that - he can faintly recognize that he is being walked to his chambers, a strong arm wrapped around him. The body helping him is also wavering, but they grip each other tightly, walking with hands against the wall.

Everything smells of alcohol and he can barely walk straight.

Some more steps and it feels like Asgard is shifting beneath him. A loud noise – the slam of double doors – hurts Thor. He winces, closing his eyes as the figure beside him drags him with difficulty. A push and his shins hit the board of the bed, he falls backwards on the furs. A pleasant smell that does not belong to him - Thor breathes it in, wondering why it hurts him to smell something so wonderful.

The world feels like it is spinning, suddenly everything is so hot. He fidgets with his clothes, attempting to take it off. It is so _hot._ The mead has blurred his sense, it feels good to not feel any pain – to not feel anything. Cold hands pull his fingers away and then start taking off his clothes.

“Here, let me, my king.”

The voice is familiar but Thor is too hot to think. One by one, his clothes are taken off, cold air swallowing his skin. His breathing is weighted, he is laying still but it feels like the room is turning around him. He faintly remembers that the last time he drank, something bad happened but he cannot remember what. The bed feels empty and he does not know why. His heart feels so alone and he does not know how.

The hand leaves his naked body and Thor grabs it with shaky hands.

“No. Please. Do not leave me. Do not leave me again. Loki, please.”

He does not know who Loki is, but the name makes him feel so many things at once. So he says it again. And again. Out loud. So many times until it feels right on his tongue.

The arm pulls away from him but he grabs even tighter. “Loki, please. Please.”

A mouth presses against his and he kisses back, hungry for something he cannot remember. A tongue enters his mouth and he sucks on it. Loki. _Loki._

_Please be Loki._

The mouth leaves him and presses against his body, tongue licking up and down his hot neck.

He moans. “Do not leave me again, Loki. Please stay. Stay forever.”

A hand wraps around his cock and tugs him to completion.

He moans, saying Loki’s name over and over again.

A voice says very softly, so soft Thor is not even sure he hears it.

“Oh how the mighty fall.” It says.

He knocks out after that, the pleasure and pain taking him into darkness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me .. sorry?


	31. Counts

Thor wakes in pain. Even worse, he wakes in guilt. It feels so heavy in his chest, almost like Mjolnir is anchoring him down. He sits up, pain shooting through his head. The room turns and he stays there, hand rubbing his head in circles, attempting to remember what happened. He smells mead in his pores and the sheets - a gross taste in the back of his mouth.

It comes back to him slowly.

Someone – Alrik offered to drink with him .. to – to help him relax. To help him forget. Forget about Loki. Forget about the pain. They drank – they drank a lot. Thor remembers that. He sits through the pounding pain, deciding that a night of forgetting does not feel worth the morning of agony. He looks down at his body to see that it is naked. He freezes, mind trying to remember why he was unclothed. He quickly looks over the side of the bed to see that indeed, his clothes are scattered on the floor.

Fingers quickly take off the covers from his lower waist to see – to see cum dried on his stomach.

That’s when everything else falls back into place.

The admiral – had he and Alrik had sex? No – no, they did not. They could not have. They were both so drunk, Thor remembered. It was a miracle the Alrik could lead him to his chambers. But yes, he does remember the orgasm – they must have done something. Had he forced yet another person to sate his desires while inebriated?

Thor feels the guilt swallow him up. He had let the loneliness in his heart take the best of him. The mead nulled his judgement. The touch – it felt like a quick salvation for the pain and agony in his chest. At the moment it did, at least. But now, now he feels guilt and regret pool at the bottom of his stomach.

Mainly because he was picturing Loki. He remembers that. Remembers chanting Loki’s name – begging for something. He does not know what, but he was begging, begging for Loki. Thinking it was Loki who was touching him, bringing him to completion.

How pitiful. _How pathetic._

The man has left you and all you crave is his touch? His body?

That makes him worse than all the other men who used Loki. He hates himself for it. He loathes himself for it.

Thor reaches for the letter Loki left behind – it lays perfectly still on the nightstand. He takes it and balls it up, throwing it aside.

_He has left you._

_He does not love you._

_Stop thinking about him._

_Stop feeling guilty._

_So you slept with another._

_He probably has too._

Thor stands and punches the wall with all of his strength. It cracks under his knuckles. He does not do it because of Loki – no, no he is not angry because of Loki, how could he be? He is angry because of himself, for even thinking these foul thoughts about the man he loves. No – no, Loki is no whore. _Stop using your own pain and anger to hide things._

He turns around and slides down the wall, never feeling so defeated before in his life.

He is so lonely. His body and heart crave Loki.

Without him, everything is dark.

His mind is a mess, an ever-changing mess. Feeling guilt and regret one second, angry and hateful the next. Feeling sad for being so angry, feeling guilty for being so sad. He does not know what to think, what to do, what to feel. He is so lost without his Loki, without his anchor, his compass. Without his calming rain, without his emerald, his ebony night sky.

Even if everything else he is feeling is wrong, he knows one thing is right.

He loves Loki.

He misses Loki, there is no denying that. Having sex with another man cannot hide that. Drinking away the pain cannot hide that. Blaming himself cannot hide that. Blaming Loki cannot hide that. Feeling sorry cannot hide that. Feeling angry, punching walls, crying – nothing. Nothing can hide that.

 

* * *

 

“I apologize.”

The admiral looks startled, kneeling immediately. “My king, I am unworthy of your apologies.”

“I put you in an uncomfortable position. I did not mean to force you into bed with me.”

The admiral shakes his head. “No, you did not force me into anything.” He looks up, something in his eyes makes Thor uneasy. He seems to realize his implications, adding more. “We were both drunk. Maybe it is best to place the blame on the mead.”

Thor nods. “Rise.”

The man does so. After a moment of silence, he bites his lips, a spark in his eyes. “You called me his name. Loki.”

Thor feels his heart ache at hearing the name spoken. He swallows down that feeling, looking away. “I am sorry.”

“You should forget about him.”

Thor quickly glares at the man. The sentence alone sends viscous waves of anger through his body. The mere suggestion of forgetting Loki makes Thor bloodthirsty. He holds it at bay, clenching his fist behind his back. “You speak without right.”

“Maybe I do, your majesty. But it is clear that he has hurt you.”

“Admiral.” Thor sends him a warning glare.

But the man continues. “He did not have a place in this castle. I do not know why he left, but it must not have been for the right reason, seeing the state you are in.”

Was the man trying to provoke him?

Thor truly holds his body still as best he can, the anger so profuse he cannot think of anything except restraint. “Admiral.” He says it with danger laced in his voice.

Alrik stands his grounds. “Did he use you, my king?”

“Hold your tongue.”

“You were begging me last night. I remember. Begging me to touch you. Did that filthy slut truly take control of you?”

With that, he punches Alrik so hard the man is flung to the wall. The rage is too encompassing, it burns like acid under his skin, eating away at everything. Weeks ago, he would have never done this. But, weeks ago, Loki would have been here to soothe him.

“Guards! Get him away from me.”

At that moment, two guards enter, picking him up.

As they drag him away, the man says one more thing.

“The night of our victory. He asked me to sleep with him.”

Thor jolts to a stop. “Wait.”

The guards stop at his command. He turns around, the pain slowly bubbling into something much much worse. He walks up to the admiral, who has blood streaking down his jaw. A purple bruise blooms on his cheek.

“What did you say?” The words are quiet, but filled with rage.

The admiral watches him with amused eyes, silver and cold. Thor hates them. His lips curl only slightly at the edges.

“The dance. He asked to sleep with me. Said he would make it good. Only for little gold.”

Thor raises his fist, ready to bash this man’s skull in for lying to him. He wants to rearrange his bones, he wants to see him bleed, this man he has grown up with, he wants to kill him in this moment. There is nothing holding him back, he hates him. Hates him for saying such foul words. For saying that _his_ Loki would offer to sleep with another man. It sounds impossible.

The admiral replies quickly. “Of course I denied. I knew his relationship with you. He left after that.”

Thor grits his teeth, heavy breaths tangling his lungs.

“Take him away.” The words barely escape from his clenched teeth.

As the golden doors shut, Thor shouts loudly at the sky.

If the Admiral had hoped to break Thor with those words, he succeeded. Because that small conversation seems to feel like a sword plunging into his chest.

He is broken.

Did the Admiral love to see him in such pain?

Clouds roll and thunder strikes.

He yells until his throat hurts.

Somewhere distant in his mind, Thor hears Loki telling him to count back from 100. Somewhere distant, he can hear Loki telling him to calm down, little whispers in his ears. Loki was an addiction - one Thor had grown to love and need far too quick.

He takes in a breath, counting back from 100.

The thunder continues to scream across the sky.

Flashes of lightning.

By the time he makes it to thirty-one, he is calm. But the sky is still angry.

Thunder, lightning.

But there is no rain.

_Where is his rain?_

 

* * *

 

He sits at the ledge of the window outside the throne room, one leg outside, one inside. It felt like only a day ago was he in this same spot, thinking of getting Loki a new cape. 

The breeze ghosts across his skin. Another day without Loki. He refused to face the Admiral after their altercation from yesterday, too ashamed and too disgusted. With himself and with the Admiral.

He sits there, and just like last time, like all times, his mother appears. It is like she knows when he comes here to sit, when he comes here to face his own demons. And in a way, he chooses to sit here, hoping for his mother to come and provide wisdom.

He knows it is her just by her footsteps, her scent.

He turns to her. “Mother.”

Frigga looks at him with gentle eyes. Always gentle.

She reaches him and sits in front of him. “It is time you spoke to me.”

He averts her eyes and looks down at the design on her clothes, feeling ashamed. “Mother.”

She sighs. “No. You do not get to feel sorry for yourself. I am your mother. I will not judge you.”

He bites his lip, the storm of emotions in his chest have somewhat subsided, leaving behind defeat and exhaustion. He does not know how much longer he can hope and fight. Maybe he has to accept defeat.

“He left me, mother.”

Frigga hums, taking his hand in hers. He looks out at the window, at the ocean so far away.

“He – he left a note saying it was him who killed the guards. That it was all a lie. Everything. Our love. He said he never loved me. That he just wanted coin.” The words spoken aloud are so much more painful than inside his head. He wants to bite his own tongue until it bleeds.

Frigga rubs his hand softly. “Do you believe it?”

“The guard – the guard said so. And two servants. And – and he left a letter.”

She cuts him off. “Thor. Do _you_ believe it?”

He shakes his head. “No. Never. I love him, mother.”

She hums. “Yes, I know. And do you know what else I know?”

He looks expectedly at her. She smiles, but it does not reach her eyes. “I know he loves you too.”

Thor shakes his head, feeling pain come back. “No. He left me.”

His mother lets out a sigh, holding his hand tight. “I will speak once on this matter, and after that I will not bring it up again. It is not my choice to tell you what you must do.” She sighs. “Asgardians live long lives. In these years, so many things can change. Some we can control, others we cannot. Very seldom do we get the chance to find someone we love so much it feels impossible to live without them.” She pauses, looking at him with a soft expression.

“You have found that someone. As I see it, you have two choices to make. You can either sit here, soak in your pain and loneliness, forever wondering what happened, why it happened, how it happened. Or," She brushes her hand through his hair. "Or, you can go and find out.”

He looks at her, the blurriness inside of him somehow clearing up. The hope slowly bloom back to life.

“But his only request was that I not look for him.”

She smiles at him, this time, with happiness.

“And if I know anything, it is that my son never listens to anyone’s requests, even mine.”

He nods, understanding.

Enough of blaming himself.

Enough of blaming Loki.

If he wanted answers, he’d have to find out for himself.

He'd have to find Loki.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little tad boring chapter. Thor needed that final push to get him off his ass and find answers. :)


	32. Pages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another reminder why I don't write mystery :p

Thor stands in the garden for the first time since Loki left. A part of him is worried, worried for Loki. Worried that every second Thor spends here, Loki is somewhere further away.

He stares at the center tree, picturing Loki there, sketching under the shade of the leaves. He remembers how peaceful Loki looked, he remembers how warm his eyes grew upon finding Thor.

It had to be real. All of it. Some of it. _Any of it._

Boots step out on the stones of the garden, stopping a few feet away from him. He lets out a sigh, pushing away thoughts of Loki.

“My king. You asked for me?”

Thor turns to face Fandral.

The man kneels quickly before him, his head held lower than usual days, as if ashamed. Thor notices the way his hands grip tightly, the rigid posture of his body.

“Fandral. Rise.”

The man rises, eyes averting his king.

“Come to me, brother.”

The man looks up in astonishment, sadness in his eyes. He nods slowly, walking toward Thor. When the man gets close enough, Thor raises his arms and wraps them around his friend, hugging him tight. The man is surprised, lets out a startled sound.

“M-my king?” The man stays rigid, arms still beside him.

Thor holds him tight and says softly, “You did nothing wrong. Stop blaming yourself for something you cannot control.”

 Let’s out an exasperated sigh. “Thor – Thor I – you told me to watch him. You told me to watch him, but I did not. I let him out of my sight and he left. It _is_ my fault. And you have not seen me for nearly three weeks now, I assumed you were so furious you did not want to see my face.”

“Fandral, it is not your fault. I know it is not. So do not blame yourself. I avoided you, yes. But I avoided everyone else as well. I needed time to think. To decide what I wanted to believe. To believe what I wanted to feel.” The man still does not hug back. Thor puts his face against Fandral’s neck, placing a chaste kiss. “Fandral, I love you like a brother. I will never blame you for anything.”

That seems to do it, as the man crumbles against him. Arms wrapping around Thor tightly, body going loose, a sigh of relief.

“Oh, for Odin’s sake. I was so afraid. Afraid I had lost you, brother.”

“Never.” He says, giving another tight squeeze before pulling back. “Now, come sit. Tell me what happened that night.” He leads Fandral to the bench in the garden. He chose this place because it was where Loki was last seen, and it gave them privacy.

Fandral sits in front of him, eyes carrying less weight, but still sad.

The blonde takes a little time to collect himself. Thor sits patiently.

“We were trying to figure out who was after Loki,” he says, after a while.

Thor nods.

Fandral frowns, not meeting Thor’s eyes. “And we deduced that it was someone inside the castle.”

Thor is suddenly alert, his attention taut. “How so?”

Fandral is quick to explain. “It had to be. In order to know about your relationship with him. Also in order to maybe overhear where Loki liked to read. It had to be someone residing in the castle.” Thor nods slowly. It made sense. He spends only a second blaming himself for not realizing it sooner, but then diverts his attention.

Fandral looks nervous again, his fingers fidgeting.

“That’s when he started to lose control. He started to get afraid – realizing, I think, that it could be anyone around him. He started to think of men who were around him the most. And he – he ..”

Thor rests a heavy palm on Fandral’s forearm.

Fandral nods. “He thought it was me.”

Thor does not even spend time entertaining that train of thought. “But it is not you. You have no reason to fear. I know it could never be you.”

There is a spark of light in Fandral’s eyes, the reassurance seems to help him. “Loki – he ran after that. Asked to be left alone. Said he needed time to think. So I did not wish to bother him, fearing he might continue to think it was me. I ordered his guards to watch over him. I gave him space and time.” He pauses , clenching his fists. “Now I know it was a mistake to do so.”

Thor rubs his arm. “No. No, you were right.” He pauses for a minute, trying to comprehend this information. He then lets out a sigh, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket. The note – he picked it back up, hoping it could help him. He had read it over and over, but all he could see were the painful words.

Maybe Fandral could see something else.

“I have decided to try and find him. If I find him and he does not wish to come back home with me, then I will not bother him. If he truly says he meant everything in this letter, then so be it. But I need to know. I need to know.”

Fandral nods. He gently takes the wrinkled note and reads it.

Thor spends that time wondering who the mysterious man was. Maybe the thought of being watched sent Loki running? Maybe he was afraid of this perpetrator, so he fled. But then why did he kill the guards? Maybe he thought _they_ were the ones trying to hurt him. That made some sort of sense. But then why did he steal the gold and ... and write the letter? Why run?

It did not make sense. It just did not.

Fandral makes a soft gasping sound, looking up from the paper. Thor furrows his brows. “What is it?”

The man quickly stands up, walking over to the other side of the garden. Thor is quick to follow him, seeing that he walks to the bush of roses. The white ones – Loki’s favorites. There were some specks of blood on the lower flowers, some of them were even ruined. He opens his mouth to ask before Fandral shoves his arm into the middle of the bush.

“Fandral, what are you doing?”

He searches for a moment before his eyes widen, obviously finding something.

He pulls out a leather book, standing.

“The letter,” he says, “It mentioned the roses. _Their blood on my favorite flowers, what is left of us will wilt._ I noticed that that sentence was not necessary. Why would he say something about the blood?” Fandral hands the book to Thor, who opens it.

He recognizes it as Loki’s sketchbook. The first few pages have flowers, the next few are of random items. Vases, doors, the throne chair. More flowers. The asgardian ocean. Some buildings. A larger portion of them are drawings of Thor. Random poses, but a large number of them are of Thor in his battle armor. He continues to flip through them, searching every page for something, anything.

He flips through all the pages, nearly eighty of them, and nothing comes up. He looks through them again, but they are just pictures. He lets out a defeated sigh. Why had Loki pointed them here just for this book.

A cruel memorandum? A reminder that he actually existed?

“Nothing.” He says, closing the book.

Fandral takes it and opens it again. He looks through the pages as Thor does, but with a more careful eye. It seems, he finds nothing as well. He lets out a sigh, furrowing his brow in thought. He then pulls up the letter, re-reading it. When he gets to a part, he reads it out loud.  Quiet at  first, but then he repeats it louder.

“Even the bottom of the ocean never receives light.” He frowns, reading it again. “Even the bottom of the ocean never receives light. If you knew Loki you would think that this was just poetry, but it serves no purpose in his letter. So why write it in?”

Thor looks at him in confusion, puzzled by the riddles.

Fandral tucks the note in a random page and begins flipping through the sketchbook, his fingers searching for something. He flips past more pages and stops.

“Here, here on page thirty-two he draws the Asgardian ocean.”

Thor looks closely. “The bottom never receives light..”

They both look at the bottom. At first, it is impossible to see, but between two waves, it is clear. Five words written very small. It is hard to see, because it was written over the drawing after it was finished, over the bold lines of the waves, but it is there.

Five words.

_‘The letter is a lie.’_

Thor reads it aloud, his voice a whisper. “The letter is a lie.”

It feels like lightning shoots through him.

He reads it again, making sure his eyes do not deceive him. The words do not change and Thor feels hope. Although it is very small - it feels like an eternity since he’s felt it. Thor grins softly. He vibrates with energy, finger tracing the letters. It is a lie. It is a lie. It is a lie about a lie about a lie.

He does not know just what is true anymore but this is enough for him. Because this means .. this means so much. Although tiny, the relief is impossible to describe, it is overwhelming and not enough at the same time.

It feels like he can breathe because there is hope again. Hope his Loki still loves him. Hope his Loki did not leave him. Hope his Loki did not mean to break him. Hope his Loki is still _his_ Loki.

“Fandral. What does this mean. Tell me what this means.” He asks because he needs to hear it. Needs to hear it to believe it.

Fandral looks at him, a small spark of happiness in his eyes as well. “It means we have to go find him.”

“It means we have to find him.”

 

* * *

 

It seems even with that revelation, the questions are still infinite.

Who killed the guards?

Why did he run?

Where did he go?

Why did he write the letter?

Why did he steal gold?

He does not know what is true and what is real, he does not know enough. There are so many things he wants to believe, so many things he does not want to believe. He cannot know for sure. Not yet. Not with all the pieces.

All he knows is Loki did not betray him. That everything they shared may not be a lie. That the kisses and the words and the tears and everything may be _real._ That Loki did not sell his body, did not use Thor, did not think of their love as a _transaction._ And it does not make sense, everything is so big Thor cannot think straight. But it does not matter.

Nothing matters.

Because the letter is a lie.

Because he loves Loki.

And because he needs to know if Loki loves him too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I start university again on Monday, meaning return to my old schedule of posting every Friday. The fic will be finished soon, I think. Does anyone have anything the might want to see in the ending? I write impromptu so I am open to anything! Anyways, have a good weekend, see you again next week.


	33. Nights

The stars do not seem to shine as bright. Not without Loki by his side, it seems. In reality, he never spent too much time staring up at those lights. His attention was always captured. The stars were of Loki’s interests. Thor only saw them through the reflection in Loki’s eyes. The awe in his face.

He misses that, now that he stands under darkness and stars. It felt so long ago, that he stood here, with the love of his life beside him, under the stars. The night air is cool as it was that night, its teeth raking across Thor. Everything is the same, but at the same time everything is different.

The stars mock him – mock the darkness inside his chest. They shine so violently against the dark sky.

He has lost his star.

He is a little lost himself.

The lost searching for the lost.

He lets out a breath, shrugging his tired shoulders. It had been a relentless few weeks without Loki. Oftentimes he felt so lonely – unable to think properly. In the last few days, he wanted nothing more than to fly out to Asgard and search every inch for his beloved. But he knew that would get him no where.

If he wanted his Loki to truly feel safe in their castle (because it _was_ their castle), he had to relinquish the threats. And so he came to Hogun and together they made a plan – a plan that would effectively narrow out the threat. It would take a little while and during that time, he had to trust that Loki was fending for himself. The gold he took was sufficient to live for a long time.

He still worried – but the faith placed in Loki had to be great. Doubting the man in the first place was already a breach in their trust. He had to believe that Loki was the man he fell in love with and no one else.

The plan was a simple one. He returned to all of his duties. He put up a facade – pretended to be happy. He covered everything with a facade – acted as if he had passed his heartbreak. He would speak aloud, to his guards, to his servants, to his healers, telling them how much better he had felt. He smiled and joked to everyone around him. Every guard, every soldier, the court members, the admiral, even the stable-boy – he appealed to _everyone_ with happiness. It was difficult - conveying such joy when he felt so much turmoil.

But the next part seemed to be the hardest, though Hogun insisted that it was important.

He snuck women into his bed chambers, making it an almost secret, but always allowing a guard or servant to see. Hogun assumed that there were spies amongst his servants. Also that this was a way of solidifying his facade of truly moving on. So Thor made love to faceless woman who wanted to spend a night with their king. He did it reluctantly, and with women who were willing to sleep with him. Of course, he tells no one he thinks of Loki as he climaxes. The women just happen to have dark hair.

He laughs heartily and drinks again. He trains his soldiers and smiles wide at everyone. His appetite is revived and he tends to his people. Even to his mother, he is bright.

He does so for a week.

He realizes, putting up such an act is tiring.

But the plan seems to come to fruition. Thirty three nights without Loki and Thor feels nearly invincible. Invincible because he has surprisingly lasted so long without his beloved. Invincible – but numb at the same time. Is that possible?

Thor looks up at the stars, finally feeling something inside of him come to conclusion. He feels the end nearing – something tingling beneath his bones. The stars say nothing in return except words of bright reflection.

They see him truly, they can probably see his pain. The pain of making love to many others, when all he wants to do is feel Loki again. The pain of smiling when all he wants to do is break down. The pain of laughing and eating and drinking freely when he is unsure if Loki is doing the same.

Oh, how the stars mock him.

He waits there for five minutes, staring at the stars.

When the man he has summoned arrives, he does not turn to greet him, instead, he stares off into the distance. The sound of armor clinking, boots tapping on the floor. The sound of steel shakes him from his thoughts. Time to put the act on again.

Bear through the pain.

“My king.”

“Rise, Admiral.” The shuffling sound tells Thor he stands. He speaks with a light tone, an awed voice. “The stars are magnificent tonight, are they not?” he says softly.

There a pause, maybe the admiral deciding what he should reply with, or maybe wondering where Thor desires to lead this conversation. Maybe wondering why his king has summoned him to the tallest tower of the castle.

“Aye, they are, my king.”

He looks up at the lights, tracing them with his eyes. Was Loki looking at these stars too?

“I have been thinking since we last spoke.” Thor continues to speak with his back to the man, his arms behind him, one hand holding the other. He speaks as if the stars have told him secrets. He speaks as if he has come to a revelation. “I have taken your words in consideration.”

“Do my words still anger you, my king?” The man’s voice sounds daunting, maybe he is smiling, maybe he is smirking. Thor does not wish to know.

“No.”

There is a silence. The admiral is probably not smiling now.

“I – I mispoke. I never meant to call him a filthy slut.” The man’s tongue curls around the word _slut_ ,as if he wants it to wound.

Thor bites his lip, but keeps his posture the same. “But is that not what he is?”

A hitch in the admiral’s breath. It is quiet – covered by the Asgardian wind.

“My king?”

Thor turns around, smiling softly. “My dear Admiral, can I speak to you as I wish? Brother to brother?”

The man nods, his eyes confused. “Of course my king.”

Thor smiles even wider. “Then I will say, he was a skilled whore, Loki. I am disappointed that I will no longer be able to fuck him again. His hole felt like it was made for my cock.” He chuckles and then lets out a light sigh. “I guess there are many others out there, am I right?”

Thor feels like he is swallowing a knife with each word he speaks, but he smiles anyways. He wants to stab himself with his own sword, he wants to tie a noose around his tongue so he can no longer say such foul things about his Loki. But he smiles as if speaking about something casual.

The admiral looks unnerved, like he is disgusted by everything Thor is saying. He chuckles weakly. “I guess you are right.” The man furrows his brows slightly. “Did you not love him?”

Thor chuckles louder. “I suppose I thought I did – that is how amazing he was in bed. But a skilled cockwarmer is all he was. I tried to convince him to stay with me. Pretended I loved him, gave him a home, I let him sleep in the king’s bed.” He paces over to the other side, casually looking around his land. “I guess it was not enough. It is a shame he has left me. But I will find another.” He turns to look at his admiral, who is now frowning. "Afterall, I  _am_ king of Asgard. None can have more than me."

“So it does not bother you that he asked me to fuck him into oblivion the night of our victory?” Thor raises his brow and lets out a hum.

“I apologize for striking you. But the reason I did it was not because of feelings. I was ... insulted. That my cock did not satisfy him. My ego was bruised, merely. Not that I am judging you, my admiral. I guess he truly was whore.”

The admiral swallows, eyes lit afire. “I guess he was.”

“Honestly I am still a little hurt by it.” Thor lets out a laugh. “It is foolish, I am sure. But I am trying to lick my wounds. In fact, I am unsure if you have heard, but I have been trying out women for the past few nights. None have sated my desires, sadly. None like him.”

The admiral twitches, telling Thor that indeed he _had_ heard about Thor’s loud and promiscuous nights. The man bites his lip. Thor pretends he does not see it and continues. “Maybe you would like to join me? Try a few out?”

Alrik clenches his fists by his side. He tucks it behind him, but Thor notices. He notices the man’s resolve shaking.

“No, thank you my king.” He looks down, breathing heavily out his nose. Thor grins at his successful goading.

“That is a shame. Have you never tried out whores?”

There is a spark in the man’s expression.

“So it does not bother you at all that he is gone?” His voice is higher now, his arms back at his side, fists clenched.

Thor mock frowns, as if surprised by Alrik’s question. “I .. have told you. It no longer bothers me. I have found others to sate my desires.”

Alrik swallows before shouting. “Is that so?! So does it not bother you that _I_ was the one who fucked your little whore?” His voice is loud, the veins in his forehead bulging, his face becoming red.

“That it was me who sent those stupid arrows – me who left those stupid notes. It was _me_ who fucked his tight hole for the first time. _I_ was his first. You were tasting _my_ sloppy seconds. I had him first! I had something first _before_ the king of Asgard! You did not beat me for once. He moaned around my cock much louder than he could with yours! Does it not bother you to hear these things! His hole craves me! Does it not make you insane!? _I_ fucked your whore! _I_ sent him away. _I_ killed his guards! It was _me!_ ”

The man is panting so roughly when he is done yelling. His pale skin is on fire, silver eyes now a dark grey. He swallows, eyes quivering – lips quivering. His mouth drops, brows furrowing – recognizing what he just said.

Thor finally lets his smile slip away. His eyes burning into rage.

“Seize him,” he says to the many guards waiting behind the tower door. They rush out with Fandral behind them, flooding the roof. “Alrik Ghran,” He says, with a low voice, anger so deeply written in his throat. “you are now arrested for assault, corruption, rape, treason, and murder. Your ranking as Admiral of the Fleet is now terminated. You will judged and sentenced accordingly.”

Alrik’s eyes widen, he looks around to see soldiers closing in on him. He starts panting even louder, eyes comically wide. He hunches over and grips his hilt. He is hysterical, laughing and smiling. He pulls out his blade and starts backing away from them. The sound of steel slicing the air echoes around them.

“You think you are better than me, Thor? You are nothing! Nothing!” He lunges forward, battling some of the guards. They effectively disarm him, two guards grabbing him by the arms. Alrik struggles fiercely, but is punched heavily in the stomach to silence him. He shakes, screaming again, “I had him first! _I_ beat _you_!”

Thor watches the guards take him away, emptying out of the rooftop. Fandral stands nearby.

Thor looks up at the stars, feeling so many different things.

Shame. Regret. Fault. Anger. Envy. Sadness.

He opens his palm, mind calling for Mjolnir.

The hammer flies into his palm a few seconds later.

He turns to Fandral, who nods in return.

Then, he flies.

_Just a little while longer, my love. I will find you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many mixed feeling for this chapter. To be honest I just wanted to write more Thorki fluff and smut asap. lol that's what I get for trying to write some kind of plot. Forgive me for parts of this chapter :(
> 
> *edit: okay so the more I read this chapter the more I hate it. ugh :( sorry


	34. Mornings

A month.

Thirty-four days, to be more exact.

It was easy to predict that Loki would not survive perfectly without Thor. It was a shameful self relfection, but it was something he knew the moment he left the walls of that castle.

But out of all the things he knew he would not be prepared for, sleeping alone was not one of them. Somehow it turns out sleeping alone is almost one of _worst_ things he is not ready to face.

The nights are arguably the worst. Nights without strong arms to protect him from the cold and the dreams. Nights without the warmth that Thor radiates in droves – the same warmth that make Loki forget he ever touched snow. Nights without the same soft kiss at the nape of his neck – soft like Thor was signing his name at the top of his spine.

Loki does not have nightmares, but he does not dream either. Everything is cold, but not unbearingly so. The bed of the little tavern he sleeps in is small – small, but somehow also so big. It would not have fit both Thor and him but somehow it still feels so big.

It is different, not to have those golden fingers swallow up his ribs, sew warmth into his pores. The walls of the tavern are thick, but somehow the cold air still burrows deep inside his heart. The first night without Thor made him realize these things. It is then, does he understand what missing home feels like – and it is not the wooden walls or hard bed that is undesirable. He would call anywhere home if Thor were there to make it feel that way.

So much of his life he has spent without Thor, but only a month has past and it feels so infinite.

 _Longing_. The feeling is called longing. It is something Loki was priorly unfamiliar with. Before he met Thor, there was nothing to long for. Nothing to hope for. Nothing to miss.

But thirty-four mornings waking up without Thor and it feels like Asgard is unsteady – it feels like the soil and snow beneath him are crumbling. It feels like a lifetime of longing, enough to make up for so many years of not feeling it. He’s been beaten and hurt but somehow this feels comparably worse.

Because waking up without Thor must be equivalent to waking up to no sun. No sun whispering across cold skin, the limbs of the sun no longer wrapped around him.  Loki may be bright like a moon, but no moon shines without the sun.

It feels unfamiliar, frightening, almost. To wake up somewhere he does not belong. And for a second .. for a second it feels like everything was a dream.

A dream where there was no Thor, no warmth. There was no castle, there was no annoying but amazing Fandral – no powerfully inspiring Sif, no caring Frigga. No warmth, no salvation. Every morning – for just a second, when Loki opens his eyes and finds himself alone, it all feels like a dream.

And _that_ is frightening.

So he forces himself to remember those faces. Remember the playful banter exchanged with Fandral, the protective words and light laughter. Remember the strength of Sif, how valiant she is, no matter what anyone says of her. Remember the kindness of Frigga, her softening touch and encompassing love.

Remember Thor – _Thor_ who snores awfully loud and likes to wrap every limb around Loki. Thor who laughs so loud the waves shift from hearing it. Thor who can place only a finger on Loki and it will feel like summer is melting. Thor who eats like a slob but rules like a king. Thor who fights with the strength of a thousand warriors and smiles with the gentleness of a single cloud. Thor who paves a home for Loki in his arms, who collects tears on his shoulders. Whose lips can shush nightmares so easily, whose tongue can say the grandest of things.

Thor who loves indefinitely.

Thor who is absent from his bed for another morning.

Loki lets out a soft groan, glaring at the same ceiling he has woken up to for a month. A _month_. How could the king of Asgard be such a _fool._ Did he really think Loki was some sort of twisted masochistic whore who liked to con kings out of gold? He did not even know how to hold a sword for Odin’s sake. He was not capable of killing _two_ royal guards and robbing gold from a _highly_ guarded vault.

And if he _was_ in it for the gold, surely he deserved much more than this. To put up with Thor’s incessant hugging and grabby hands. Who knew the king of Asgard was a perpetual _cuddler?_ For the love of Odin, the man always had to drape his meaty limbs just to make sure Loki was ‘still there’ ‘still his’. Plus there was the snoring. And the loud _loud_ bellow of his. And the slovenly way he would eat.

To think Loki was in _love_ with man.

Loki swings his legs off the bed and wraps a number of furs and coats around him. He made sure to buy the most expensive furs he could find – making sure to use the gold he so called ‘stole’.

And to think he _clearly_ wrote in the letter where he was going to ‘run away’ to.

“Stupid lug.” Loki grumbles to himself as he fastens on a pair of boots, which he _also_ bought for large sums of coin.

The weather here was always cold – the ground was always white. Always pure, it never stopped snowing long enough for the ground to get dirty. There were no seasons here, something Loki had learned a long time ago. This part of the town, he had never particularly visited. He was always estranged to the poorest parts, the outskirts of the third village.

Here, though, it was much better. The people seemed much kinder, there was little to no crime. Thor’s early implementations of guards and restructuring of the laws did alot for these villages. And it did cost Loki much more coin to even stay here, but he had plenty.

The tavern he had been staying at for the past month – it was one he randomly stumbled upon, after hours of traveling in the cold. He had hitched a ride from a travelling merchant, who agreed upon trading gold for transport. The man brought him to this first village, to this tavern specifically.

It is run by an old woman called Diana, whose smile is golden and warm.

“Ah! Loki! Good morning to you.” She greats him this way every morning. “Have a seat, I have made you tea and breakfast.” Loki offers a small grin as he walks down the stairs. He sits at one of the tables and she walks over, pouring tea into his cup. This woman was a strange one. She was always smiling, always warm. She told Loki how she owned this tavern, and how it ran mostly on the gold of travelers who passed through the village. When asked, she said business had been slow lately. But Loki has on many occasions watched her donate money to children and sick villagers.

If he were the same man before meeting Thor, he would have judged her. He would have called her foolish. But now, seeing it makes him smile, makes him warm inside. Because he could see the kindness – he could feel it. Thor gave him that. Defrosted his heart so to speak. Showed him kindness, showed him the warmer colors of life.

He believes Thor would love to meet this woman.

“Are you headed to the mountains again today?”

Loki smiles politely, eating his food.

“Yes ma’am.”

She swats him on the arm. “Thirty days now you have called me ma’am and thirty days I have told you to call me Diana.”

He grins, this time genuinely. He takes a sip of tea and replies, “Yes, Diana.”

She lights up like a candle in the dark, her eyes soft and framed by lines of age. “What do you search for, child?”

He lets out a light sigh, watching the ripples in his tea. The flavor reminds him of Thor, earthy and sweet. The man would have liked this taste. “Direction,” he says.

Diana frowns slightly, her brows furrowing. She takes a seat in front of him – there is no one else awake this early. “And how long will you search?”

“I will search until I find it.”

“Why do you believe you will find this .. direction .. on the highest mountain of Asgard? Surely you tire of trekking it so many times.” Her eyes have worry in them – and if he were the same man as he was years ago, he would call her foolish for worrying for someone she did not know. But he was not.

“I am lost without what I am searching for. I tire only of being lost. So I will search until I cannot. You need not worry. If your tea remains this delicious, I will return from any mountain.” He offers her a grin which she returns.

She hums before speaking again. “You know the highest mountain is where Allfather Odin rests. His burial site is one of the most beautiful landscapes in Asgard. Maybe try searching there.”

He looks down at his empty plate, placing his fork on it. “Yes, I am aware. I have seen it on my travels. I go there often.”

Diana tilts her head slightly, nodding. “You know, there are these two men I know who also like to travel up to that mountain. Sweet boys. Hilmr and Seggr they are called. They come here after every visit. And now, you as well. Maybe one day I will see for myself what is so great. They say you can see the tips of the castle from there.”

He gets up and politely smiles. “Yes, you can. You can see the teeth of the ocean, the Asgardian forest, the tips of the castle. You can see everything. It is beautiful. One day, I promise to take you.”

Diana gets up and places gentle hands on his arm, squeezing softly. “I will hold you to that promise.”

He nods before placing more than enough to pay for his meal on the table.

“I will be back, Diana.”

“And I will be expecting you.”

 

* * *

 

' _Here Lies:_

_Allfather Odin Borson_

_Valiant King_

_Loving Father_

_Beloved Husband_ '

 

“With all due respect, Allfather, your son is not of the smartest Asgardian men.”

He stands a respectable distance away from the headstone, which is void of any snow at all. His arms are behind his back, the cold still burrowing softly through his layers of clothes. His legs are tired from walking, but not as sore as the first time he traveled up here.

“And awfully insecure as well. I have told him I loved him on dozens of occasions, still he doubts his ability to be loved. Wise Allfather, do I look like a liar to you?”

He pauses, as if allowing the stone to reply to him.

“I agree. And not to be offensive, your company is very appreciated, but I tire of walking up this damned mountain every week. I think my calf muscles may even best his majesty’s by now. You should have been buried by a nice beach near the ocean.”

Loki lets out a sigh, his breath white in the swirling snow.

“Frigga is well. Beautiful as ever. I hear his majesty cannot always make time to see you. I apologize on his behalf. I can call him a lug everyday but that does not change how much he values his throne.” Loki pauses, staring absently at the headstone. “He loves his people. He loves his kingdom. I did not know you, but I think you would be proud of him.”

The wind makes a loud whoosh and snap – a foolish Loki would have wanted to believe that that was a reply. He smiles.

“Do I look crazy as of now? I assure you I am not. In fact, Frigga has taught me many languages and I have read nearly half of the royal library. Do I look insane?”

Another loud whoosh from the wind, Loki frowns, raising a brow.

“No, I am serious, Allfather. I am skilled in the maths and sciences, I even know the entire ridiculous history of the Midgardians. I even know of their highly valued ‘internet’.”

He waits for a reply.

“I assure you I am not crazy.”

Another loud whoosh of air and then-

“You look pretty crazy to me, Loki.”

Loki actually yelps, jumping backwards at the reply. His eyes search the headstone to see it perfectly still. And then he looks around him – beside him – in front of him – beneath him.

Behind him.

_Behind him._

_Behind him._

“Th-Thor.”

Thirty-four mornings pass but it has felt like an eternity.

Here, in front of him, on the tallest mountain in Asgard.

His Thor.

Covered in snow, but so so beautiful.

Loki can only see the silver armor and red cape and blonde hair and blue eyes for _a second_ before his eyes are clouded with tears.

“Thor.” He says again, as if trying to convince himself that the man in front of him is actually there.

The king smiles, softly at first – but then it breaks into a wide, white toothed grin.

They run to each other at the same time, the snow sloshes beneath him and flakes of it get into his face and he _hates it_ for getting in the way of him and Thor.

When the strong arms wrap around him, he jumps straight into the body he has craves for so long now, legs winding around the man’s waist. He burrows his face into the warmth he has craved for what feels like an eternity.

Craved all of his life, maybe.

The man hugs him so tight and Loki is sobbing, sobbing in his arms.

“Loki.” _His voice._

He kisses Loki hard on the head, hand flying up to run through his hair.

_His hands._

He raises Loki’s face and then their lips meet, pressing so hard against each other, as if trying to make up for a month apart.

_His lips._

They kiss, bodies so tight together Loki fears his heart may be bruised.

And maybe it is.

What does it matter?

Here is here.

_He is here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are .. things to address but thatll all happen in the next chapter. For now - REUNION :)
> 
> ps. I love you all, your support and love make me immortal. I am spoiled with such great readers.
> 
> pps. let me know if you see any mistakes! It seems I always miss something :)


	35. Minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM LATE! SORRY! So swamped with college and stuff. This chapter was recently done and I had no time to proofread, I am sorry for any lingering mistakes! :)

“Oh! Loki! Back so soon?” Diana smiles wide, throwing a rag over her shoulder. She approaches as Loki enters the tavern doors, his hand tangled in another’s. “You are back earl-“ She pauses, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Who is -”

Loki turns to look at Thor, who has a gentle smile on his face. His cheeks are still pink from blushing, his lips kiss swollen. There is a daze in his blue eyes. His hands are warm. His skin feels like home.

Thor bows slightly, grinning. “It is I, Hilmir.”

She takes a second to look over his armor, the red cape, the weapon – they are all tell tale of who he really is. Diana looks up at him, jaw dropped. Her eyes are comically wide, she quickly bows down, only to be stopped by Thor.

“My King-“

“Please, Diana. You know of me. I am no different than the Hilmir you have known for years.”

He puts a gentle hand on her arm to pull her up straight, his smile is so warm Loki feels like he’s standing under a summer ray.

Diana is still speechless, she smiles gently, her eyes narrowing into the curve of old age. Loki is surprised as well, but keeps to himself, watching the pair. The woman boldly places her hands on Thor’s cheeks. Loki faintly wonders how anyone could not recognize such royal beauty. What did Thor do to disguise such features? Whose eyes were so blue they’d looked like a midday sky? Whose skin was so golden it looked like the horizon? No one else. Only the king had such aesthetic.

“You came everyday of the Allfather’s passing date. You always left so much gold I could feed the entire village. And Seggr – I bet he was your guard. I would have thought he was your lover from everytime he would flinch when I touched you.” She notices her words and pulls back from her King’s skin.

Thor smiles. “Actually. My lover is here.” He gestures at Loki, who smiles at the woman. “This is Loki Odinson, my betrothed.”

Loki’s heart swells at the words, he feels his cheeks flame, he has to hold back a surprised expression.

He had no reason to fear after all.

Thor catches the flush and smiles so wide – so beautifully. The blonde turns back to the woman. “He tells me you have taken good care him for these past weeks. I extend my greatest gratitudes.” He makes an actual bow now, one knee down and his lips kissing Diana’s hand. “I will reward you exponentially for your kindness.”

The old woman blushes, quickly pulling Thor up. “Nonsense! You will make an old woman die of shock if you bow again.” She turns to Loki, smiling widely and making a curt bow. “Your royalty.”

It is then Loki’s turn to blush, he steadies her, nodding.

Her eyes shine brightly as she addresses him.

“I assume you have found what you were looking for.”

He glances over at Thor, who is watching him with the ocean in his eyes. If there were ever a feeling called ‘home’ that would be exactly what Loki is feeling at this moment.

He grins.

“Yes. Yes, I found him.”

 

* * *

 

“I thought you had left me, my Loki.”

In that same bed Loki had woken up in for the past month, Thor was holding him. But this time the thick walls no longer let winter air travel through. And the bed no longer felt like a slice of the galaxy. Thor’s arms wrapped around him like they had done before, it felt no different except that it did. Fingers slipping under his shirt and swallowing up his ribs – Thor’s lips right on his neck, nipping at the skin there. Their legs tangled, heartbeats blurring together. Thiry five minutes of silence - just existing together.

“You are a fool to think so.”

“You – you were gone. And your letter.” Thor’s voice is quiet. They had stayed soft for a while, ever since laying in this bed. Thor telling Loki about his month of absence only after Loki told him about his month of exile. “The letter felt so real.”

Loki bares his neck, Thor’s lips suck a soft bruise somewhere along the canvas. “I meant for it to be. Alrik was no fool.”

Thor tightens his hold on Loki considerably, a low sound emanating from Thor’s throat. “Do not speak his name.”

A silence. Then,“He told you.”

Thor does not loosen his hold – as if afraid Loki would dare to leave his arms.

“He told me many things. I do not know which are true.”

Loki raises one hand to rub it blindly against Thor’s hair, the strands smooth in between his knuckles. “Can you not ask him? Is he ..”

“I did not kill him.” Thor bites down on one spot and then licks at it, fingers traveling up Loki’s heart. “I wanted to. I wanted to hurt him. He awaits sentence under the castle.”

Loki hums, staring up at the same ceiling he had woken up to for weeks.

“Ask me.”

“Loki, no-“

“Ask me, my king. Ask me the doubts you have in your heart. I will answer them.”

The lips leave his neck and travel up to the edge of his ear, Thor’s breath is light but feels so sharp against the skin there.

“He said he was your first.”

Loki spends no time sorting out his thoughts. “He was. I was a starving, naive boy pushed in the wrong direction. I was told many things about – about these services. Unfortunately backing out last minute was not allowed. He was my first.”

Thor lets out a shaky breath. “He said you asked him to sleep with him the night of the victory. I know you did not but I-“

“You doubt me.”

“Loki I –“

“You doubt me. You can say it. You are insecure.” Thor does not reply, one of his hand flows down to Loki’s hip, cradling the bone there. “I did not. He made advances and I declined. I would never sleep with another. Never.”

Thor freezes, body going stiff. Loki shifts slightly so he can look at Thor. The man’s eyes are narrowed with sorrow. It is an expression Loki does not often see on the man.

A look of guilt.

_What did he have to be guilty for?_

“Loki.” When has Thor ever said his name with such sadness? When hs he ever said Loki’s name with anything but joy? Why do his sandy lashes dip in front of sad blue eyes?

“Say it.”

There are little things capable of scaring him at this point.

Thor looks at him with that same look – it makes Loki annoyed.

“ _Say it._ Thor.”

The man brings a finger and slides it down Loki’s cheekbone. He watches his own finger on Loki’s skin. He cannot even look Loki in the eyes. “I slept with another. More than one.”

Loki could have called the last month painful – he _did_ consider it painful. But somehow it all feels numb compared to this – compared to the words slipping from Thor’s teeth.

“How many?”

“Loki-“

Loki pulls away, hands fervently pushing at Thor’s chest. The man holds Loki tight at his hips. Loki pushes.

“ _How many_?”

The man’s eyes somehow look even worse – but Loki ignores it. Because he feels pain too.

“Four.”

Loki tries to pull away again but Thor wraps his arms tighter, pulling him into his chest. “No, Loki please. Do not leave me again.” His voice is reduced to a whisper. A beg. Was the king of Asgard begging? “Please, Loki. Let me explain.”

He stops struggling, fighting every urge inside of him that tells him to turn and leave. To turn and leave because this man has betrayed him. Because this man has slept with another – meaning you were nothing to him. Just another lay. You were nothing-

“Loki, listen to me. Please.”

He silences the voices in his head.

“Speak.”

“After I found out the letter was a lie – that you did not leave me on purpose, I wanted to find you that moment.” His voice is still soft against Loki’s skin. His body is warm, hands held like a lock on Loki’s bones. “But I had to find out who it was. Who forced you to write this letter, who framed you and exiled you.” He brings a gentle finger and runs it along Loki’s cheek. His eyes still the same shade, tracing Loki’s face.

“Ghran came to me – at first I did not suspect him. Because he did not even blink when I asked him to take my duties for a few days. And he offered to help me ..” Thor stops.

Was his mighty king afraid?

Loki brings a hand and places it on Thor’s collarbone, nudging him softly.

“He offered to help me with your absence. He took me drinking.”

Loki slides his hand down onto Thor’s chest, fingers skating across the muscle. “You slept with him.”

“I did not mean to. I swear it on my throne. I drank too much and he took me to my chambers. I asked him to stay .. thinking it was you. It was a mistake.”

Loki stays silent. Feelings of ecstasy and home are now teetering on the edge. The fear is palpable, a force so strong he is use to it’s waves. But the man before him, the man before him has never gave him reason to fear. Never with his titanium love, never with his always giving hands. So why does Loki fear?

“Loki-“

“Continue.”

He can feel Thor flinch but he looks only at the spot on Thor’s collarbone.

A silence.

“Three women." Thor pauses - as if giving Loki time to let that sink in.

It doesn't.

"If I wanted to find who was responsible - I had to pretend as if I had moved on. Whoever did this to you had to be aiming to hurt me. Why else send away the one most precious to me, acting as if he had left me? Had used me?” Thor’s finger traces his jawline. Loki turns away. “I pretended to have forgotten you. Pretended I was no longer in pain. What better way to cause anger?"

Thor lets out a tired sigh. "I began to drink happily, act happily, return to my old acts. Sleep ... with women, eat healthily. Train heavily. Work happily.” A pause. “And then .. I had Fandral, Hogan, Sif, and Volstagg observe. Watch the guards and the maids and the servants and the healers. Watch for anything suspicious.

“A guard, a servant, and a soldier each reported to Ghran. Not directly. At different days, different times. And all very very carefully. Through subtle messages. Hogan was the one to catch all three. He reported back to me and after that, I continued my acts. To bait him, anger him. To see if he was the one.” Thor at this point no longer sounds confident. The fear is apparent in his voice as well. “I confronted him finally. Goaded him. And he fell for it. Confessed to everything. I arrested him.”

Loki pushes away finally, Thor makes a hitch sound in his throat. A broken sound.

He stands off the bed and walks towards the window.

A shuffle of fabric, Thor’s heavy footsteps pad after him. The man drapes a blanket around Loki’s naked body. He lets out a sigh.

“Loki.”

 _That voice._ How can it feel so much like home but also feel like a tornado ripping through?

The man places a hand on his hip, so gentle.

 _That touch._ How can it feel so soft, like limbs of the sun but also feel like betrayal?

“Please. I am sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I saw no other way. I-“ He is fumbling for words, putting together any combination in a desperate attempt. “I love you Loki. I love you more than anything. I meant it – when I said betrothed. No one but you. I love no one but you. I did a foolish thing. But I did it for you. It killed me - I swear it hurt to touch anyone but you.”

Loki turns and steps away, towards the door.

“I need time.”

He can almost picture the pained expression on Thor’s face.

“Let us go home. I need to think.”

The silence drags out. Loki reaches for the door, Thor stops him.

“Do you still love me Loki?”

It is soft. A whisper. A yell. Soft like rain but loud like thunder.

He replies with a gentle voice. Gentle as the snow Loki was born from.

“Yes. Always. I will always love you my King. More than anything. More than everything.”

_But.._

_But will it be enough?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *desperately tries to mend past plot mistakes*


	36. Tiles

They have been back a few days now.

Ever since then, he has found himself in the same spot every afternoon. The foyer entrance of the castle.

He stands immobile, feeling so little in such a big place. The castle looks the same as it did before, nothing has changed in his absence. The walls still shimmer gold and everything feels statued. Nothing has waited for him – everything has moved on by. He can only think to himself - what if Thor had not found him? On that day, in that alley.

Where would he be now? In which alleyway would he be slumbering in? What trash would he have to search through? How many men would have broken him? Would he be able to survive in that prison? How long would he have to live? Who would he be?

And of course, that questions begs another.

Who is he now? Not the same person he was before Thor  – that is obvious enough. He can barely remember who he was back then. The first word he can think of is cold. Void of warmth. Naive. Broken? Trash? Scum? Someone who believed only evil existed in the world, someone who expected pain and let it run his life. Someone who thought feeling alive was feeling a man rip him apart inside out.

That felt like a lifetime ago.

How can a person live their entire life not knowing what kindness is? What warmth is? Salvation?

Thor gave him all of that and so much more. The man was like a literal sun, his limbs were everything Loki had craved for but never got. Thor had slowly radiated warmth that Loki’s skin so greedily absorbed. And now, now he can smile and laugh and _breathe_. The scars on his bones still exist but he does not go a single night without Thor kissing each and telling him he is beautiful.

So who is he now?

Fixed? If Thor had ever heard him ever imply he was ever broken in the first place he would hear no end of it. Because he was not broken – he was _never_ broken. No he was not broken and he is not fixed.Just hurt. Now, he knows kindness and he knows strength. He knows warmth and he knows giving.

Thor has given him more than he can hold, more than he could have ever wanted. Loki knows this, he knows this every time his lungs expand. He knows it every time his skin stretches across warm bones – every time he opens his eyes.

So why can he not forgive Thor for something so – so menial? For something Thor did so that they could be _together_ again? For something Thor so obviously hates himself for doing? For something that he probably regrets deep inside his core? Thor has given him life and love and Loki cannot forgive him for one thing?

He has gone over it dozens of times. Asking himself the same questions, yearning for an answer that does not hurt. Ever since returning to the castle, he has asked himself again and again. Pacing in the same thirty-six tiles that are just inside the castle doors. Always in this spot – trying to see if his heart could dare want to leave this home. Testing his body, seeing how afraid it becomes with the thought of walking out those doors and never coming back.

Of course he cannot leave this place, whether he forgives Thor or not. Because he loves the king more than he loves himself, more than he will ever love anything else in this world. It is not because he feels indebted to this family, and it is not because this is the best place for him to exist.

It is because he cannot imagine what living without Thor will feel like.

“You are here again.” A voice stops Loki's pacing.

Slow, steady footsteps echo through the room, tentative feet coming towards him. They are are not rushed, not hasted. Slow – afraid maybe? Loki does not look up from his perpetual stare at the ground.

The footsteps stop, but only once there is no space between the two bodies.

Loki looks up and is drowned by blue eyes, blonde hair.

“Fandral.”

He has not seen the man for the few days he has come back to the castle. Mainly because he was locked away in his personal chambers trying to understand the typhoon in his heart. He had only left to eat or come to this new spot to think.

The man looks gorgeous as ever, cream skin and piercing eyes.

Fandral quickly closes the space between them and arms wrap around Loki, their chests clash. Loki becomes pliant in the man's arms, letting himself be held in strong arms. The man’s face is shoved in Loki’s neck and it is suddenly wet - because the man is _crying._ The warrior’s fingers dig into his back, strong arms holding him tight. Fandral smells and feels the same, only now he desperately clings to Loki.

“I was afraid I had lost you.” His voice is muffled by the pillar of Loki’s neck – but it is the same as it was a month ago. Loki tries to pull his arms up to return the embrace but Fandral’s hold is tight against his body, as if afraid he will vanish into thin air.

“I am here now, Fandral.”

The blonde places a kiss on his shoulder, sniffling. His voice is gentle, soft - everything Loki knows Fandral to be and still much more. “Brother. I wish to tell you something. Quickly so I do not have to continue drowning.”

Loki replies against the forest of blonde hair. “Fandral, you do not h-“

The man pulls back before he can finish, both hands grabbing the side’s of Loki’s arms. His cheeks are wet but his eyes are as blue as they can get. His golden lashes are stitched together by tiny drops of tears, there are rings under his eyes.

Fandral speaks quickly, as if he has been waiting to confess for ages. “I am sorry. For that night. I should have went after you. If I had – If I only I had went after you. If I had went after you, maybe things would have been different.” Guilt is not a lovely shade on Fandral, Loki decides. He should never be anything but happy.

Loki looks down at the man’s cheek, eyes afraid of the expression on Fandral’s face. He brings up a hand and places it on the man’s jaw, holding it softly.

“You are foolish, my warrior.” Gentle whispers, either afraid of saying or afraid of hearing – he isn’t quite sure. “He would have found another way, another time. What matters now is that I am here and he is not. The King has brought me home.”

 _Home._ It feels right to say it, to know where he belongs. Home is where this is and he knows no matter how many times he paces in front of the castle door, he will never willingly leave. Because this is home and Thor is his everything.

He looks up at Fandral, who’s eyes are soft.

“I have missed you Loki.”

He offers a small smile. “And I, you.”

Fandral is equipped with the ability to read Loki because he is instantly aware of the sadness in Loki's voice. His brows furrow, peering down into Loki’s eyes.

“You are troubled.”

Loki smirks, nodding. “I am.”

The blonde wraps and arm around his shoulder and leads him outside the castle. They walk in no specific direction, just along the greens of the grass. “Tell your brother who he must punish.”

Loki lets himself follow Fandral, leaning into the embrace. He chuckles softly. “Only if you wish to be charged with treason.”

The blonde laughs loudly and the sound warms his heart. “I would gladly do it for you, your royalty. His majesty is mean to me anyways.”

They stop at a patch of flowers a little way down the path. There are a few servant outside the walls tending to the flora, but none in their immediate vicinity. Loki lets out a loud sigh and tucks his face in Fandral’s neck.

“Am I foolish to be acting this way?”

Fandral hums softly. “Why would it be foolish? You are entitled to feel however you wish.”

Loki closes his eyes and lets the man support him. “I am back after a month of being away. I have missed him more than I could bear. I wanted nothing more than to be in his presence. And now .. now all I have to do is walk into those doors and there he will be.” The yard is silent, the only sound is the gentle raking of winds through trees. He is glad that there is no snow here, the warmth is addicting on his skin.

“He is right there. Waiting for me. Giving me space even though I know he wants nothing more than to hold me in his arms. I have asked for more time and he gives it to me without a word. I ask and he gives. I want and he provides. He will forgive any sin I have committed. So tell me Fandral, how am I not foolish to do the same for him?

The man against him lets out a soft sigh, arm wrapped firmly around Loki’s waist. “You are also entitled to a bit of time as well, your royalty. I can not justify his actions, but I know he loves you more than anyone – more than anything. He is afraid of losing you.” A pause, a sound in the back of Fandral’s throat. “When he found out you were gone – I have never seen him so broken. So lost. But you are here now. And .. I think he could live with just knowing you were okay. He does not care for your forgiveness as much as he does your well-being.”

Loki sits up, eyes open and glaring at the blonde. “No. He does not deserve that. That is not – that is not enough. King or not, no one should deserve that. I have been unreasonable and he is all but giving.”

The thought of Thor being content with just knowing that Loki is okay makes him sick. Because Thor deserves happiness too – he cannot just go on with life with so little. The winters have made Loki selfish but Thor has shown him kindness. The thought of forcing Thor through that torture – gracing him with his presence but nothing more. A polite nod but never anything above a greeting. Maybe an exchange of pleasantries and sharing the same dinner table – but never anything else. He could never treat Thor as anything but a lover. He realizes this now more than ever.

He then realizes that forgiveness is not always given when things are right, sometimes it is given to _make_ things right. Loki thinks about the months he has spent under these shimmering walls and beside this golden King. He has never been so happy in his life. And maybe he has spent too much of his life withering in snow, but that does not mean what he has here is exaggerated.

“I love him.”

“I know.” The reply is quick, solid.

Loki bites his lips, his heart a clouded mess. “If our roles were reversed, I would have done anything to get him back to me.”

Fandral looks at him in surprise. The expression disappears and he smiles fondly. “It wrecked him. To do those things.”

Loki looks down at the blades of grass beside him. He plucks a few with his fingers, tossing them in Fandral’s lap. “Was there no other way?”

The blonde clears his throat, laying back down onto the grass. Loki continues to pluck grass and throw them on the man. “Of course there were. But he wanted to be sure. You were gone and there was no room for mistakes. We knew not who was watching us.” The blonde closes his eyes, the sun laying gently on his features. “He was so desperate to have you back – I think he would have done anything.”

And can Loki really blame him for that?

He stands up, knowing he needs to speak to Thor, even if he knows not what he wants to say.

He does know, however, that no one is perfect. And Thor should not be punished for that.

Fandral grins without opening his eyes. “He is in the gardens.”

Loki hums, leaning down to press a kiss on the blonde’s forehead before he leaves.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am beyond late and I am so sorry. I've run into some things and it has made it difficult for me to do anything besides reply to comments. I know some authors have much longer breaks inbetween updates but I just can't bear to leave for so long. I am really trying to finish up this work and put away the difficulties that have come with it. None the less I want to extend my greatest thanks to all my lovely supporters and readers - this work would be nonexistent without you all. I will not miss my next deadline!
> 
> ps. sorry if there are mistakes, I have had no time to proofread as of late.


	37. Bushes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive any mistakes you see! Sped through this one.
> 
> As always, much love to all of my supporters. Can't have done any of this without yall. <3

“This is stupid.” Thor paces back and forth, hands fidgeting by his side. “I am foolish. This is foolish.” He mumbles quietly to himself, the flickers of candles cast shadows through the empty room. He is wearing his best attire, regal gold and the family red. He has forgoed the crown and instead let his hair down in blonde waves – the way he knows Loki loves.

He has cleared the entirety of one of the largest private dining rooms, filling the space with Loki’s favorite candles. There are dozens and dozens of candles – each lit by himself. Some change their colors, some flicker like stars, each one of them filling the entire room. The only place void of candles is the middle of the room. There is a circle in the center – Thor has bordered it off with white rose petals (also Loki’s favorite) each lightly dipped in his favorite champagne. Thor had to deflower thirty-seven bushes in order to get enough to scatter the center.

He smells like flowers and is entirely too worried that his cape will catch on fire because he is pacing around so much. In the far corner of the room he has gathered the best musicians in the kingdom – violinists, harpists, the best orchestra he could find. It has been a week and a half since he has last seen Loki and Thor has nearly lost his mind.

Loki had come to see him yesterday in the gardens – yet fled immediately upon seeing him sitting next to the tree. Before Thor could stop him, he was already gone.

The next day, Thor could not take it anymore.

The guilt has driven him to near insanity, he has spent barely any time sleeping. He has thrown himself into his duties, they serve to distract him from the pain in his heart. The servants and guards seem to appreciate it though, apparently his sudden happiness for the past month was strange to them. When he asked his favorite guard about it, the reply was ‘they are glad they have their king back.’

Thor smiled except that everything was still _wrong._ Their king was _not_ back – because he felt so empty inside. Their king could not have been so broken inside. He needs _Loki._ How foolish does that sound? What would his father say to him now?

Fix your sins?

Act like the king I made you to be?

The crown needs not romance?

Fight for what you love?

He has spent so much time trying to figure out ways to repent for his sins, ways to show Loki how sorry he is. He understands the severity of his actions, no matter the intention. But Loki means so much to him and he cannot bear how much he has betrayed their trust.

And so, he is here. Pacing in a circle of rose petals that smell like sweet champagne, dressed in his best clothes, and surrounded by beautiful candles and talented musicians – hoping for forgiveness, even if he does not deserve it.

He was never the one for apologies. He was never the one for romantics. Half of this was Sif’s careful planning – her mind taken over by the romantic novels she so adores. The other half was made possible through gentle encouragements from his mother. The two strongest women in his life, both telling him to do whatever it took to keep the man of his dreams.

And that is what Loki is. The man of his dreams. Maybe even more than that. Loki is someone who is beauty where Thor is flawed. He is someone who is gentle where Thor is rough. Someone who is pristine where he is tainted. Someone who is smart and whole and perfect. Someone who draws flowers to better understand them – someone who loves the ocean but fears its waves. Someone who is afraid of himself but opens entirely at the same time. Someone who has dust of the moon in his skin – someone who does not fear cold nor warmth. Someone who has scars but never lets them define him.

Thor is undeserving but he is here anyways.

He has never been so nervous. He has been less nervous going to _war._ It has only been ten minutes since he sent the guard to request Loki’s presence. And Thor knows – he _knows_ how much Loki hates being summoned but it has been a week and he cannot wait any longer. He knows no other way to get Loki to meet him.

The sound of knocks at the door makes him freeze immediately. He looks around the room, at each petal and each candle as if they could help the fear he is feeling in his chest. Of course they cannot and Thor finds himself stuttering – “C-come in.” He straightens himself, hands flying behind his back, clutching he cape anxiously.

When Loki walks in, Thor finds himself falling in love all over again. He is essentially breathless because Loki is wearing the outfit Thor gifted him. Black cloth and gold accents and shinning jewels. He is wearing the family cape – red and beautiful behind him. The man walks in and he looks around the room, eyes catching on the dozens and dozens of candles. Thor can only stand like a statue in the center of the room, watching the man’s expression.

Loki notices the pathway outlined by rose petals, he walks along it, eyes still wandering to the flickering lights and emptiness. His steps are slow but he walks with grace – fit to be a king, Thor thinks fondly to himself. The cape billows behind him and the dim lights frame him so perfectly. Thor wonders what he did to meet such an amazing person.

When the man reaches Thor in the middle of the room, he finally meets his eyes. Green and everything Thor has ever wanted.

“Loki.” Suddenly it feels like there is an ocean inside of him and the dam holding everything back is slowly breaking. He feels nearly invincible for lasting so long without seeing Loki.

“My king.” He looks down at Thor’s clothes, eyes skimming across the fancy cloth. “What is this?”

Thor clears his throat. “It – It is .. I – Loki, I ..”

Loki stands patiently, his hair is long and clean, a few strands slipping from behind his ear. He bites the pink of his lower lip, eyes lowered, lashes long and elegant. Loki is a masterpiece in skin and bones.

“Will you dance with me?” He blurts out, catching the both of them in surprise. “Dance with me please? Just this once. Only this once.” His voice is soft and he does not know why.

There is a silence between them for a little pause but then Loki is nodding, stepping so close to Thor that he can feel warmth and smell his floral perfume. The same one Thor had gifted him when he said he loved the scent of lavender.

When their chests brush against each other, Thor is already reaching out to hold him. He nods over at the orchestra and then a soft ballad fills the room. The song is gentle and everything he would use to describe his love for Loki.

The man in his arms is surprised by the music, but then softly rests his face in Thor’s chest. They move at the same time, stepping in unison to the slow sound of strings. His heart is beating so loudly he is afraid Loki will shy away from his chest.

He does not – they continue to move in the little circle of rose petals. Loki’s hands feel like summer against him, the smell of his hair is enough to ease Thor’s fear. And as they move so slowly against each other, the music soft and sweet – Thor can almost forget the weeks of agony he has felt without his Loki. Loki is pliant against him, unguarded and utterly stunning. The scents of Loki, the candles, and the rose petals all combine into this garden of aromas. The lights flicker on and off of their bodies, shadows of their dancing figures fly across the walls.

He feels immortal with Loki in his arms.

 _This_ is the king he wants to be.

 

* * *

 

They dance for however long, he is not sure, but eventually he feels Loki lifting his head, Thor looks down and those green eyes pierce him all over again. They stop moving, Loki pulling away but still in his arms. The music softens in the background but Thor’s heart is still loud in his chest.

He knows then, that it is time for words. Explanations. Apologies – something.

“I have done wrong,” he starts. “Betrayed your trust – I, I just. I know you are tired of hearing sorry from so many men in your life.” Loki eyes tremble at hearing that, his lashes flutter so gently. (Is there no flaw in this man?) “But I cannot – I do not know how else to show you how sorry I am. There has not been a second I have not regretted doing it. I feel like scum – I feel, I feel so unworthy.”

Loki’s hand remain on Thor’s chest, it scares him so much that he has not said anything.

“I think you are afraid,” he says, noting the slight shock in Loki’s eyes. “I think you are afraid because I have done something that those men have done before. Hurt you. Slept with you and told you it would be okay. Told you things then turned around and slept with another. I told you I was never like them and that I would never be like them.”

Thor places his hands on Loki’s hipbones, holding him like he is some treasure Thor has spent a millennia looking for.

“I will never be like them. I would never want to hurt you on purpose. I think I would rather die. Throw myself off the rainbow bridge. Give my crown to the town fool. Anything. _Anything._ But never see you hurt.” He clears his throat. “I just – I just .. I want things to be okay again. I would give anything.”

He hates this because it feels familiar. He has done this before – apologize to Loki with everything he has ever had. Offered anything, offered everything. And he hates it because Loki never deserves pain, he has been plagued with it for far too long. Thor – who promised from the very beginning he would never hurt Loki, Thor who promised his throne and his life for Loki – here he is apologizing again.

Loki who is made of the moon and the stars, Loki who is born from the purest of snows and has galaxies inside of him. Loki who never deserves to be pained.

Thor hates it.

“I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I am asking for it anyways. Because I need you here, next to me. I need to tell you – I need to tell you I love you. Every day. Every night. Every time you are afraid.” He takes a hand and cards it through the side of Loki’s hair. The man nudges into the touch, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

“I love you, Loki,” he whispers. “More than anything. More than everything.” Loki looks up at Thor, hearing his owns words repeated. And just like that, the tears fall out of his eyes, bright and clear like the jewels on his collar. Thor takes his thumb and wipes them away, his throat dry and his heart pounding.

Loki sniffles once before looking at Thor. “Dance with me, my king.” Thor is surprised by the sentence, he swallows, nodding slowly. And then again – they move against each other and in circles. Like two planets forever orbiting around another. Loki breathes softly on Thor’s neck.

A warm breath of air and then he is kissing the skin there, softly, so softly. Soft like snow falling on snow. His lips rise slowly, from the collar to the artery in his neck. From the back of his ear to his jaw, lips soft, occasionally sucking, occasionally biting.

Thor closes his eyes as they drift against one another.

The moment Loki’s lips find his, the dam inside of him cracks.

They kiss like their first time – slow, soft, tender. Loki bites his lower lip and then he’s opening his mouth, letting in the man’s tongue. Their bodies are so close together, the dancing has slowed but their kisses have become desperate. Relearning each other’s taste after weeks of forgetting.

There is no end and no beginning. The music may have started playing again but he is not sure. There’s only Loki’s tongue in his mouth, Loki’s hair in his fingers, Loki’s moans in his ears. It’s all too much and not enough. There is too much fabric and not enough skin, too much space between them even though their bones are pressing against each other.

It is hungry and perfect and everything he needs.

They break apart only to gasp for air and kiss again.

 


	38. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves. Sorry for the delay!

It feels like they have both taken a dozen steps backwards in their relationship. And Thor knows Loki is not a doe you have to carefully tend to. Loki is no broken piece of glass you have to delicately handle. If anything the man is the _stronger_ of the two. Thor knows this – and yet he is afraid of making the wrong move, saying the wrong thing. It feels nostalgic in a way that makes him entirely too uncomfortable.

He wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around Loki and bring him to bed so they can sleep peacefully again. He wants to make love and kiss endlessly. He wants to bathe together and he wants to kiss every scar. He wants to return to the life they had before – so carelessly in love, like playing with flames but being invulnerable to fire.

But he does not want to do anything that may hurt their newly recovering relationship. Loki who has been through too many wars and not enough victories. Battlefield and sanctuary, Thor is not sure which is more. It seems even after spending months falling in love and discovering every part of Loki, he is still an enigma. There is no understanding someone so celestial in nature. Thor can only wonder where he goes from here.

Dancing slowly with the occasional kissing in a circle of candles and roses, they do it until fatigue. And when they both tire of swaying and silence, Thor can only accept that this would have to had ended. And when he is requesting some of the servants to blow out the candles, he can only fear the moments to come. Because as the fires slowly die down and the music silences into nothingness, he can only feel their bubble of happiness dissipate. Their skin smells sweet of champagne and rose petals, their lips taste the same and their skin warm from each other.

That night, after they had changed into sleeping garments, Loki insisted they watch the stars. But instead of from the towers, the man led Thor to _his_ chambers. It was a surprise, but Thor did nothing but open the grand doors and bid the guards goodnight as they walked in.

Upon entering the large room, the first thing he could think of was how long it had been since Loki’s presence graced these walls. How long had it been since Loki slept in their bed, bathed in their bath, lounged on the windowsill, read on the bench. How quickly his scent faded from the sheets after every night of his absence. How it felt to search for Loki’s warmth and smell every night to lull him into a dreamless sleep.

Loki walks up to the foot of the bed to trace the gold designs in the bedframe, his eyes flickering to the made sheets and pillows. Thor can only imagine what the man must be seeing when he looks at the bed. Memories of them? Sleeping together, wrapped so intimately close that there is no discernible end or beginning? Maybe he pictures the times they made love, the passionate moans and gentle touches.

Or maybe he imagines the women Thor had taken to bed.

Maybe drunken breaths and desperate cries for Loki to a man they both hate?

All Thor wants to see is them together again, their scents mixing together and tattooing to each other’s skins. He wants them to belong to each other again – two people so deeply in love they are willing to  sacrifice anything and everything for each other. He wants to show Loki that this home is safe for them again, that Thor will protect him at all costs. He has made mistakes but what man has not?

Standing in this room, where he has tasted the heartbeat of the man he loves, where he has breathed in the existence of Loki, Thor can only fear what is coming.

Loki, however, shows no signs of distress, he only stands there for a minute before walking towards the balcony. He wears a black tunic with gold designs sewn in the sleeves. There is a wide V cut on his back and chest, exposing snow skin and sharp bones. Shoulder blades slice through shadows and collarbones soak in nightlight.

“Come watch the stars with me, my king.” Is all he utters before he steps out the doors into the night.

Thor has to take a few moments to compose himself, his thoughts in a thousand places, his lips still burn of Loki’s taste, his hands still crave pale skin.

When he walks outside, he is not surprised by how masterfully Loki wears the night. The lights curl around his skin expertly - greedily, almost. He is like a walking masterpiece, shadows and lights painting up and down his flesh, hoping to soak into bone. The man leans against the rail, hair flowing freely behind him. The cut in his top is inviting, Thor walks up until he is directly behind the smaller man.

He smells of lavender and sweet champagne.

Thor presses his nose into the man’s hair, breathing in everything he has ever wanted in life. Slowly, he presses one calloused hand on Loki’s hip and another at the nape of his neck. His thumb slowly draws circles into the skin there. Loki shivers.

“I love you.”

Loki hums softly, staring at the stars. “How much?”

Thor grins, nuzzling his face against the side of Loki’s head. “Count the stars.”

To his surprise, the man actually counts aloud, finger tracing random paths along the lights. Thor lazily follows the motion of his finger, admiring the anatomy of his hand more than the stars that it points to. He stops at thirty-eight, laughing softly.

“There are too many.”

Thor grins again, closing his eyes.

“Then there is your answer.”

They stay silent the rest of the night, only speaking again to bid each other goodnight.

 

* * *

 

Thor wakes up with Loki in his arms.

It is akin to being able to breathe again.

 

* * *

 

Loki refuses to see Alrik’s trial or sentence.

Thor being who he is must attend, and due to Ghran’s prior title, the affair is long and stretched. Seeing the man makes him burn in rage, enough that he has to dig his nails into clenched palms in order to even speak. The order of legalities blurs through him, he remains as objective as he can but the entire time the only thing he can think about is how much he hates the man.

Ghran remains almost catatonic, his eyes hollow and his skin a milky color. His hair remains in tangles and the charismatic demeanor is gone. It seems the game Thor played with his mind finally teetered him off. The man only stares off into the distance, even when being questioned.

Thor almost feels pity for him until he remembers how much pain and discourse he caused.  How much he hurt Loki. How he planted treasonous seeds in the kingdom, how he killed his own brothers and how he manipulated power. How he abused Loki.

_“I had him first! I beat you!”_

Those words echo through Thor’s brain constantly. Alrik did so much just to hurt him. He went to such great extents just to pain Thor. Just to get a few weeks of pleasure from seeing Thor waddle in his own agony.

How could someone hate another so much? How could someone go to such great lengths just to pain another? And for what? To prove dominance?

Questions like that slowly ripped through his body the entire week. Like slowly swallowing a dagger. They were meaningless, he knew this. Stupid, meaningless questions that deserved not to be answered. What was done was done.

Alrik was sentenced and the kingdom was at rest again.

 

* * *

 

He spent the days being a king and his nights lounging in bed with Loki in his arms. Loki would tell him about what he had learned in the day, Thor paid no particular interest in Midgardian culture or the astrology of the universe, but listening to Loki’s voice was soothing.

He would lay there , Loki pressed against his body, the two of them fallen into a comfortable routine again. Occasionally they would fall into bouts of slow kissing, hands and lips slowly relearning each other again. Loki’s skin was electric, his warm breaths felt addicting.

It was impossible to imagine ever getting tired of something like this. Kissing Loki so slowly and passionately it is hard to remember breathing. The man’s hair falling down in waves, framing them and smelling of flowers. His smaller, lithe but beautiful body straddling Thor, knees on either side and hands roaming over Thor’s chest. It is hard to distinguish their nights together, it all blurs into passionate whimpers and the taste of sweetness. Focusing on one thing is impossible because every part of Loki is a wonder in its own – Thor was never good at poetry, but Loki is like stanza after stanza of metaphors.

It is hard to keep up but it is not like he wants to.

He would never have to drink again because Loki is more than enough to make him intoxicated.

 

* * *

 

“You do not wish to hear about his sentence?”

“No.”

Loki climbs onto his lap, straddling him. They are both sitting in bed, the furs pooled around their hips. The bath they just finished left both of their skins soft and warm, smelling of rose petals and bath oils.

“I have no desire of speaking about that man anymore.”

“Loki-“

The man leans in and kisses Thor, cutting him off. He inhales, kissing back softly. Loki presses forward, kissing him fervently, his teeth biting eagerly at the bottom of Thor’s lip. Thor opens his mouth and the kiss deepens, Loki’s muffled whimpers, their tongues sinful against each other. Thor tries to protest again but Loki’s hands run against his chest, sliding down to caress the muscle in his abdomen. He flexes and then Loki grinds slowly on his lap, causing both of them to moan into each other’s throats.

It is fire and passion and Thor is forgetting everything slowly as he rolls them over, pinning Loki against the bed. Their lips break apart and Loki looks up at him with this haze in his eyes and a pant in his breath.

Thor bites his lip, one hand rests besides Loki’s head, the other holding his hip. He says nothing because they have not slept together yet and he will not do anything Loki is not comfortable with.

The man beneath him smiles coyly, he brings both palms up to smooth against Thor’s chest. “I am yours, my king. As you are mines.” His hands wrap around Thor’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss. Everything is too much and not enough and suddenly his lips are tasting Loki’s neck, sucking bruises that he hopes never fades. Suddenly his tongue is swirling around Loki’s nipple and the man is whimpering.

His hand smooths down the ocean of Loki’s skin and lingers around his hip. He is kissing every inch of the man’s torso, savoring the taste of heartbeat and faded rose petals. Loki is writhing and Thor silences him by wrapping his hands around the man’s member. He strokes it slowly and then cold hands are tightening in his hair.

It is fire and thunderstorms and everything because Loki is grabbing one of his fingers and sucking enthusiastically on it. Thor moans against Loki’s hipbone, feeling that sinful tongue curling around his finger. A clatter against the bedside table and suddenly Loki’s mouth leaves his finger only so something cold can be poured on it.

The whimpers drive Thor close to insanity, he smells the floral oils as it leaks on his fingers. He looks up at Loki only once – only once to see the lust spiraling in those green eyes. He grins once before lowering his head to take Loki’s member into his mouth.

The man breathes in sharply, his moans are short and high. Thor sucks on the length slowly, his oiled finger brought to Loki’s entrance slowly. He rubs the pad of his finger once, twice against the hole before edging in slowly.

When Loki says Thor’s name, he licks a stripe up his cock and pushes in another finger. They both are burning in lust, Thor curls his fingers upwards and everything is lost in their sweat and pleasure. He does not know how long it continues but after the third finger Loki is mumbling his name softly.

“Please, Thor.”

He pulls the fingers out and his mouth leaves Loki’s cock. He looks at Loki again to see the same mixture of lust and love. His own length is heavy and thick against his thigh, he grabs the oil bottle and pours some on it, taking note of the look in Loki’s eyes as he watches.

He leans over the and stares down in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Loki frowns and whispers softly, “You need not permission to love what is yours.”

Thor smiles and kisses him, Loki wraps his legs around his back. He guides his cock to Loki’s entrance and slowly pushes in. The man beneath him arches upwards, hands running against the muscles in Thor’s back. The kiss breaks apart and Loki is moaning in pleasure, his neck baring with each inch that pushes inside of him. Thor sucks on the pillar of skin, kissing in random spots on the man’s clavicle.

The tightness around his cock is impossible – he pushes his thickness in as slowly as he can, and when his entire length is inside, he is afraid if he moves it will be over. But Loki is trying to rock beneath him, his hands clawing at Thor’s back. “Thor – I forget how big you are.”

He chuckles, kissing lazily at a spot on Loki’s neck. Slowly, he pulls back out earning him another whimper. He pushes back in quicker, the tightness making it impossible not to groan in pleasure. The pace quickens when Loki begins to chant his name again and he can only grunt _fuck_ when Loki clenches his hole.

He fucks into Loki and their moans mix together, hands clawing at skin and lips sucking on bones. Loki is panting with each piston of Thor’s cock, Thor cannot think straight because the pleasure is enough to blur everything.

He does not last long, fucks harder and faster, Loki wraps tightly around him – they kiss and becoming as close as they can be. Thor remembers Loki telling him that no two entities can occupy the same spot at the same time but Thor will be _damned_ if he does not try.

He angles his hips upwards and pounds hitting the spot he knows Loki loves. The man beneath him freezes and then unwinds, orgasm taking over his body. He whimpers and clenches, pulling Thor along with him. Thor pushes in one last time, cumming spurt after spurt before collapsing.

They both pant heavily, the entire world feels like it has been upturned.

Thor pulls out and Loki whimpers. They are sticky and sweat and he will most definitely regret falling asleep like this – but Loki kisses him softly on the head and whispers.

“I love you.”

 


End file.
